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peppertoastuniverse · 1 day ago

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more than a late night snack – gojo satoru chapter 9: donuts

contents: gojo satoru x reader, really bad flirting attempts, swearing, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, gojo calls you babe, forced proximity summary: after returning from kyoto, gojo asks you to sneak out with him to get late night donuts. after he gives you a thoughtful gift, you can't help but admit that he makes you happy wc: 7.7k

he tsks impatiently. “just say it!” he stomps his foot irritatedly, leaning closer to you. “s’okay, i know you’re shy. here, here – i’ll start – i missed you when i was away, babe.” he says ruffling the back of his hair, the white strands picking up the artificial fluorescence of the street lights above. it looked as if he were glowing. “thanks.” “no! that’s not what you’re supposed to say!!!” throwing his hands up exasperatedly, deflating entirely at your words. “you’re so bad at this, babe,” he groans, his arm settling around your shoulders.

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gojo groans as he stretches out on the too small shinkansen seat, his bored blue eyes failing to take in the rapidly moving landscape through the window. as he antsily bounces his leg up and down he couldn’t help but exhale dramatically. gojo just wanted to be in his room – to him nothing seemed like more of a punishment than being bored. after being forced to come back to kyoto to help plan for the “future of the gojo clan," his fuse was running dangerously short. tsking, he knew should have listened to himself and snuck out a few days earlier like he had planned to, but they kept him on a tight leash — unfortunately some things never change. though gojo had to give himself some credit, having endured two painfully boring days into his week-long stay before causing any trouble. he was lucky to escape when he did but just he wished he could've saved himself the trouble of having to sit in those stupid meetings listening to dull clan politics and old people waffle on about outdated ideals and nonsense standards.. the final straw was the lengthy discussion of the importance of the colour of this year’s ceremonial plates – after that meeting he knew he had to get out of there at any cost. taking his glasses off, he rubbed his eyes irritatingly – after everything he's been through, his terrible mood was warranted. but what added to his bad mood was the lack of a text from a certain someone. he sighs, irritation slowly melting away the closer he got to tokyo – the further away from the gojo estate the better. looking at the darkening grey skies through the windows of the shinkansen, he closes his eyes to ease the pounding of his head. but a vibration in his pocket instantly puts a smile on his face and soothes the ache in his messy mind. hoping that it was you, he quickly grabs his phone to check his messages.

♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: gojo (8:33pm) gojo: yes my grumpy girl? ♡♡♡♡♡ (8:34pm) ♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: where are you? (8:39pm)

gojo smiles hopefully, was it getting hot in here or something?

did you miss him? were you thinking about him while he was away? he hoped you did. placing his glasses back on his face, dark lenses hiding the growing hearts in his eyes.

gojo: (,,♡ᵕ♡,,) OH WHY B DO YOU MISS ME I MISS U TOO IM ON THE (8:44pm) ♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: no (8:44pm) gojo: VERGE OF TEARS ALL THE TIME (8:45pm) ♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: stop it (8:45pm) gojo: DW IM ON MY WAY HOME (8:46pm) ♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: where are you? (8:47pm) gojo: ILL SEE U RIGHT AWAY WHEN I GET BACK PROMISE ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ (8:49pm)

gojo watches as you type and stop, chuckling to himself. he suspects that you’ve either thrown your phone in embarrassment at his antics or was struggling to figure out what to say – most likely both. he could just imagine the cute way that you would flush, your defiant eyes juxtaposing the sweetness you tried to bury. were you hanging out with suguru and shoko in the common room right now? perhaps it was movie night, shoko would’ve probably chosen some sort of murder mystery or rom com, but he knew you preferred sci-fi. or maybe you were in your room at your desk, probably reading some novel that suguru recommended, too engrossed in the novel to turn on more lights.

♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: omg dude where are you? (8:52pm) gojo: just left kyoto, clan shit i got you a souvenir (8:54pm ♡ grumpy lil babe ♡: its ok, dw abt me (8:55pm) gojo: I already bought it ur gonna luv it b ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) (8:56pm

satisfied, he shuts his flip phone. adjusting his body to comfortably slump in his seat, he wondered how something so simple could drastically change his mood. taking a look at the time, he grins as he counts down the hours it takes for him to see you again.

lying in bed you melt deeper into your covers as the night wanes on. the quiet of your room is only disturbed by you gently turning the page of the novel that suguru had lent you. you had chosen to go to bed early and you were surprised that your plans had for once come to fruition – it really was the perfect evening, quiet and relaxing. perhaps that was due to gojo’s absence – it was almost too quiet when he went away. the lonely silence keeping you company in his place. you were growing accustomed to gojo’s larger than life presence, his laugher decorating your life with light. his once irritating and crude words morphing into fun and playful comments that would make you unexpectedly laugh. gojo had a tendency to conjure something more colourful and silly out of you – qualities that you thought you no longer had the capacity of, losing them the day that your sister died. but with him around, things just seemed more amusing, their corners less sharp and painful, his bright laugh cushioning you from the harshness of the world. and you hated to admit it.

the vibration of your phone on your bedside table pulls you from your disgusting thoughts

but maybe that was him.. did he get bac - wait why did that matter? ughhh.

moving to hastily mark your place in your book, you roll over with curiosity to grab your phone.

gojo: u up? (12:48am) you: you did not just send me a u up text (1:05am) gojo: not like that b! ( ˵ •̀ □ •́ ˵ ) ur already up anyway (1:07am) you: no im not (1:13am)

you jump as you suddenly hear your bedroom door handle jiggle impatiently, your phone on your bed vibrating with a vengeance.

is he fucking serious right now? the audacity of this guy, it was past midnight –

gojo: BABE! (1:14am)

you groan softly, you were in bed already. comfy. cozy. ignoring the disturbance, you turn to lie on your side, your back facing the door you shrug your comforter over your head.

gojo: IF U DON’T ANSWER IM GONNA SCREM (1:16am)

the glow from your phone illuminates your face under the blankets as you snicker softly at his messages. there’s no way that gojo would scream – he didn’t have the balls. you decide to call his bluff and settle deeper into your comfortable pillow, empty hands searching for bun bun beside you, ignoring your constantly vibrating phone.

gojo: AND WAKE EVERYONE UP RN RN BABE!!!!!! (1:18am)

you reach for bun bun, playing with his long soft ears absentmindedly, mildly aware of your impatient phone or the rattling of your doorknob – gojo could wait, bun bun was too cute to ignore.

gojo: FINE OK U ASKED FOR THIS (1:20am)

suddenly you hear the beginning of gojo screeching, hastily you run to your door, immediately grabbing him by the collar of his uniform, you slap your hand roughly against his too loud mouth. you bite your lip to prevent a satisfied smile from creeping on your face as you successfully muffle the obnoxious intruder. “what to fuck is wrong with you?!!” you shout whisper as you shove his chest with your other hand, his long legs stumbling deeper into your dim room. “you’re gonna get us in detention!” you berate him taking in his disheveled appearance, his eyes wide as saucers, his glasses askew on his face. “do you not fucking hear how loud you were?!” you whisper angrily to him, giving him a death glare while hesitantly removing your hand off his soft lips. gojo’s eyebrows twitch in amusement, only adding fuel to the fire in yours. “see! look what you did! you woke up bun bun!” you gesture to your pink stuffie, jostled in the rush to answer the door, his little legs dangling pathetically in the air. gojo flops into your bed with a strange familiarity that oddly makes your chest feel too tight. with a sheepish look he makes to grab the stuffed animal, “i’m sorry, buddy,” he whispers too sincerely as he rights the pink bunny, “i didn’t know you were sleepin’ – that was uncalled for." he tucks bun bun back into your bed gently, grabbing your beige comforter and patting his head comfortingly attempting to lull him back to sleep, stopping for a moment playing with his long floppy ears. you pull a face. “why are you so nice to him and not to me?” you pout, hoping your heated gaze burns a hole in the side of his head. gojo looks up at you with an obnoxious frown, “i’m actually really nice to you, babe,” he says seriously, still patting bun bun’s soft head. “oh, so disturbing me at like 1 in the morning is being nice?” you say sinking onto your bed, folding your legs underneath you. “i literally just got back and you were already up. n’ i told ya i’d see you. i tried getting back sooner, but y’know – shit happens.” he says simply, taking a seat next to you while playing with the edge of your plush comforter. “shit happens.” you repeat rolling your eyes, debating on whether you should just try to get back into bed and kick him out of your room or ask him about his trip in kyoto. undecided, you rip your soft comforter from his grasp and throw on the comforter over your legs to ease your decision making. still dressed in a warm coat over his uniform, past his usually bright eyes and toothy smile, you noticed that gojo almost looked deflated, his shoulders still tense with something you didn’t understand. you frown. “c’mon let’s getting donuts,” he offers, knocking his knee playfully against yours before you move away from him in a huff. conscious about your stale silence, he started to worry that he underestimated your annoyance with his admittedly unorthodox methods at getting your attention. but he couldn’t help it, he was excited to be home – excited to see you. “we can get ones ya like…” he tests, leaning closer towards you, noting that you didn’t shy away from him this time. he boldly pokes your stiff shoulder, subtly trying to get you to look at him or for you to give him a more obvious sign that you weren’t totally upset at him.

“...y’know that place in chiyoda?” gojo tries, fist against his leaning cheek, unaffecting his triumphant smile as he sees your ears perk up, knowing he got your attention. you turn your head considering your options. normal donuts were always good, but donuts in chiyoda? those were your absolute favourite. you remembered when you received an earful when suguru bought a half dozen after his mission nearby and you ate 4 of them before suguru could even have one. whoops, ya snooze ya lose, sugu. gojo had a good laugh at suguru scolding you, probably amused at someone other than himself being the focus of an infamous suguru scolding. in apology, you went to to get him another half dozen, not telling him that you had actually gotten him a full dozen but had eaten six donuts on the train ride back. suguru could tell by the sugar on your sleeves, but he appreciated it all the same and he understood, those donuts were delicious.

you recognized that gojo was playing dirty.. but donuts are any anytime food, perhaps it wouldn’t – wait. shaking your head, you had to think logically.

you noticed that being around satoru gojo made you make more… irrational decisions, choices that you wouldn’t normally make. gojo had that effect on people, lowering their IQ by many points just being in the vicinity – that was a fact.

“how, dude? curfew happened hours ago, if yaga finds out.. .i mean i’ll be fine but you?" you sneer, "you’re getting a shaved head and suguru will make fun of you so badly you’ll cry. i'm not dealing with boohoo-ing gojo, you’re already annoying when you’re happy.” gojo groans at your comment, his nose scrunching up in annoyance.

“pff as if suguru could make me cry!” he scoffs, “yaga won’t find out.” you cross your arms across your chest, giving him an exasperated look at gojo’s ego on full display.

“yeah, uh huh,” you mutter disbelief oozing from your body language.

“you forget who you’re talking to babe,” he smirks cockily as you roll your eyes at him.

“then what do you suggest, oh honoured one?” you spit sarcastically, not missing the way he sticks his tongue out at you, as you mirror him in response.

pff he was so childish.

“i could teleport us there,” shooting you a proud look.

“..what?! when did you manage that!?”

he smiles cockily, “earlier this week, when you were in nagoya!” he puffs his chest out, pleased with your impressed stare.

you knew that he was working hard to perfect his teleportation. more than a few times gojo would saunter in pompously during the middle of your sparring sessions with suguru, somehow always annoyingly interrupting when you were on top of suguru just on the verge of pining him. you and geto even started making a bet at the beginning of each sparring session as to what time gojo would make his appearance. you’d laugh in victory when you would win, making the groaning geto buy your favourite chips at the corner store. or on the rare occasion when he’d win, you’d buy his favourite seaweed rice crackers.

gojo would loudly insist that you and suguru keep him company while he was training, complaining that he needed the distraction so that he would be able to easily teleport during chaotic missions. he’d even make you stay after geto had retreated for the night, insisting that he still needed your help. begrudgingly you often found yourself sitting crossed legged on the gym mats, watching him with equal parts curiosity and exasperation. his usually blue buggy eyes closed in concentration. his brows furrowed, his shoulder still, his usual chaotic energy cloaked in an almost eerie silence. gojo was undoubtedly hardworking and persistent – most likely the results of strict training implemented when he was young. you were glad that he accomplished his goals albeit admittedly a bit annoyed that you weren’t there to see it first hand.

“pleaseeeeee, let’s goooo. you’re thinking too hard about it grumps!” he turns to you dramatically, gearing up for a lengthy conversation to convince – to beg you even – to go with him. but he’s used to it.

gojo had a smart mouth, one that he cultivated during his youth. growing up he’s learned to weaponize his strengths, easily talking his way out of many things. effortlessly convincing shoko and to a lesser extent suguru to actively participate in his mischief. like that one time after a rare mission with you and suguru, he convinced his best friend that the spiciest ramen in ginza wasn’t even that big of a deal and that if anyone could do it, suguru surely could. you could still remember gojo’s manic laughter as suguru downed two cartons of milk as you patted his back while rolling your eyes. Or when shoko had told you about that infamous time last year before your arrival when gojo had convinced suguru and her to jump in the ocean with him in naha in the middle of a particularly frigid october resulting in all of them getting sick for a week – yaga was not happy.

gojo was used to getting what he wanted and never failed to resort to playing dirty if he really had to. satoru gojo always got what he wanted. although you were a harder case to crack with the right approach, an abundance of patience and a bit of luck, he could convince you. perhaps if he applied some logic to his fun, amazing, incredible adventure, you’ll surely fold, right?

“look, i swear I can get us back in half an hour, tops. no one will notice, i’ll even – ”

“okay.”

he blinks at you.

what? that’s it? that was easy. you were always surprising him.

“w-what?” his trilogy of groveling disappearing instantly on his tongue at the sight of your teasing smile.

“let’s go, I wanna get that yuzu donut they have,” you say as you grin up at him, amused by his confused face. giggling at his rare silence, gojo watches you ecstatically as you stand to rustle through your dresser, quickly picking out a warm sweater and some soft pants and practically skipping into your bathroom to change.

gojo scoffs, almost disbelievingly, a hand reaching behind his head to card his hands through his hair. a soft grin creeping on his face at how you easily smiled at him. a few months ago, he’d have to almost beg you to do anything with him. hell, it took him almost two months and daily nagging to get you to sit beside him at lunch when you first arrived. nowadays, you’d let him lounge in your room or even text him first sometimes, he’d catch you grinning at him more than pouting – the thought made him giggly, a weird fluttering feeling exploding in his stomach.

happily he tosses his body deeper into your bed to cuddle bun bun, excitedly whispering to him about his plans- luckily bun bun was a good listener.

hearing his soft baritone, you turn your head to see what he was up to. promptly turning around before he could see your creeping smile, you attempt to shooing away the warm staticky feeling that bloomed within you when you sneak a peak gojo’s warm expression. he strangely didn’t look out of place laying in your bed, easily blending into with all of your other personal belongings. you wondered when your room became the place where he was found more regularly.

finally shutting your bathroom door, you hear his muffled laugh as you quickly change out of your pajamas. before you could wonder what he was up to, you see an alert flash on your phone: a photo from gojo. exhaling through your nose, you flip open your phone to see that he sent a photo of himself and bun bun, the stuffie’s pink little arms around gojo’s beaming face, the bunny’s cheek leaning on gojo’s. you giggle, saving the photo immediately before shrugging your head into your sweater.

“… okay? so this will be our little secret, bun – i’m serious! i’m counting on you.” you hear him say seriously to the plushie as you shut the bathroom door, facing gojo with a raised eyebrow.

“what are you poisoning his mind with, gojo?”

“sheesh, babe. nothing! just guy talk, you wouldn’t get it.” you roll your eyes as he rises from your bed before looking back to ensure that bun bun was still tucked in comfortably.

“okay, so how does this work?” you ask him, as he grunts, distractingly stretching out his too long body, his joints popping.

“well, the more surface area i'm in contact with while I teleport, the easier it’ll be for me –”

your eyes widen. surface area? does that mean –

“- to get us to our destination accurately. which means, babe – c’mere.” he moves closer to you, almost chest to chest, arms reaching around you. you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body, his comforting scent close and aggressive.

“uh – what?” you ask, surprised at the quick closeness, placing a hand on his firm chest to prevent him from moving any closer. gojo rolls his eyes sassily, his arms falling limply at his side.

“this worked the best. me and baby did some tests. i had suguru touch my shoulder, hold my hand and then hug me. naturally, the hug got the most accurate results, ‘cause ya know, surface area. but babe, like sugu actually smells so good, m’not sure what it is but, he definitely changed his shower gel or something ‘cause he smells different but like good diff – ”

you cackle loudly. “pff – i bet suguru hated that hug. he probably showered twice to get the extra stupid off him.” you poke at him, deflecting easily hoping he doesn’t sense your nervousness.

“hey don’t be mean! that’s not the point! the point is, that’s what worked the best.”

you avoid his stare as you fidget with the buttons of your coat that you shrugged on, the low warm lighting of the room almost amplifying your nerves.

why were you even feeling this way?

you trusted gojo, you knew that he'd get you there safely, you never questioned his abilities, you saw how hard he trained, you knew he was capable. was it the proximity? but you were used to him sitting too close to you or poking your cheeks, but somehow lately things were different. you could no longer ignore how grossly your heart would flutter when he was near you or how you would annoyingly grin when he texted you. you couldn’t keep away from him any longer, and that annoyed you.

he cocks his head to the side studying your strange silence, “..hey, it’s okay to be nervous.”

“m’ not nervous…” you mumbled. sure, you'd let him believe that you were nervous just because of teleporting.

“if you’re not comfy with it you can just hold my arm or something."

you nod shyly, avoiding looking into his eyes, too proud to see your embarrassment reflected in them. "ughhh guess i'll just have to work a little harder," he teasingly groans, hoping to make you smile.

when you dont say anything he tries again, moving his hand to rub your shoulder, hoping to reassure you. "i got you.” he says, head turning to decipher your loaded expression. “i wont let anything happen to you, i swear." he whispers seriously.

catching your breath, you meet his unwavering gaze before slowly lowering your hand on his chest. instead you move to gently hook your arm around his right bicep. he smiles encouragingly at you, still soothingly rubbing your arm. you feel his towering stare as your cheeks heat up. his eyes twinkle, like being close this close to you was normal.

he lowers his head, "hold on tight, kay?" he whispers as you feel his arm wind around your waist.

“gojo, you’d better get us there or else.”

“c’mon babe! i promise! where’s the trust?” he says brightly as you scoff, shaking your head.

“god, your ego is bigger than all of japan –”

“heh, not as big as my –”

your eye twitches in irritation. for the second that night you find your hands over gojo’s mouth, berating him of his idiotic behavior.

“ geez okay grumps” he says jerking his head back, “now let’s get those donuts!” he says enthusiastically after shrugging your hands away from his face with a smile, once again trying to ease the pout off of your face.

you squeeze your eyes shut, increasing your grip on him, concentrating on how his soft hand felt around you.

if you were with him, it would be fine – you trusted him before, this would be a walk in the park, right?

feeling the cool breeze on your face, accompanied by a gojo’s soft squeeze. you gently open your eyes. “see babe! we’re – oh shit heh...”

you feel his hand on your waist, pull you closer to him. the too bright lights cause you to blink in confusion. you take a look around you, a large grand temple – wait what? sensō-ji?! that must mean you were not in chiyoda.. but in asakusa which was –

you detach yourself from gojo’s still arm around you, crossing your arms poutily, you facing him defiantly. his eyes widen behind his glasses at your scalding expression. “hey! no, look – okay this doesn’t happen very often, trust me. i swear –”

“this is nowhere near, chiyoda, gojo!” “it’s not that far babe, we got legs right? we can wa–” “an hour and a half away.” “i dont know why that even happened – hmm, did you feel anything funny? maybe you weren’t close enough?” “okay, this isn’t my fault!”

“no,no, no, no – i’m not saying it is, babe! i guess got nervous – “ “don’t blame this on performance anxiety, gojo! you have to always be prepared, what if we were on a mission! we would’ve been fucked.”

he whines your name. “i always –” “oh my god, it doesnt fucking matter! we’re so far!” “lemme try again!” he pleads, moving closer to you, eager to please you.. but you quickly sit down on the cold ground, your legs folding underneath you stubbornly. “nope. i’m not teleporting. i’m not going anywhere.” you say firmly, your eyes giving away a streak of mischief that gojo doesn’t miss.

gojo playful rolls his eyes and plops down next to you, leaning towards you at a dramatic angle so his shoulder touches yours.

“one more chance.” he whines, as you stubbornly turn your back at him with a hmph. “c’mon, grumps – just one more! please?” he gently leans his head into the center of your back, repeatedly head butting your back like a stubborn little sheep. “you’re gonna teleport us further from the donuts.” you say looking up at the clear night sky, your act of being furious faltering slightly at the feeling of his head prodding you. he was ridiculous. “no more teleporting. let’s just take the train or something.” “noooooo c’mon let’s walk then, grumps. it’ll be fun. me and you time!”

“nope. you said you’d get us there, and you didn’t uphold your promise.”

“i mean… technically, i promised to get us there but not the mode of transportation–”

“i dont give a fuck about technicalities, dude.”

“okay, okay, fine – get on.” he gets up into a crouch, a long hand gesturing for you to get on his back. “..what?” you scrunch up your nose in confusion. “get on. i’m strong enough to walk for us both, since you’re soooooooo lazy!” “you cant be serious.” you say scoffing, turning your body to face him slightly surprised by his serious face, expecting him to be joking. “why, you scared?” he asks, his glasses sliding down his slender nose. you catch his twinkling eyes. “didn’t know lil ol'grumps was scared of the most powerful, handsome, charming sorcerer of the modern age, satoru go–”

your eyes narrow challengingly.

fuck it. if he wants to play, fine, you’ll fucking play. you had enough of his ego tonight.

launching yourself with a burst of energy of something to prove, you practically jump on his back, your strong legs wrapping around his torso in a piggyback. “oompf!” he grunts at the abrupt contact, his bright laugh echoing through the empty street as he easily catches you, quickly reaching back grabbing your thighs. “you’re so spoiled, babe.” he says, shaking his head with a smile.

“you’re the one who offered!” you hiss with a shove to his shoulder.

ensuring that you were on snugly, he carefully stands up at full height. gojo laughs boisterously as he feels your arm hastily scramble to wind around his neck for balance. you never realised how tall gojo was. did he always see the world from this angle? being this high above the ground, you were slightly wary. you knew that if he dropped you it would hurt, so you had to mentally prepare for the pain when he couldn’t hold you any longer, for when he got tired of holding you up. the fall was inevitable. but feeling his soft breath on your arm, breathing in his familiar scent, a small hope bloomed in your heart when you considered that maybe, just maybe he would catch you.

“onward! to donuts!” he playfully proclaims loudly, his steps quickening, enjoying how he feels your quiet laugh though his back, the warmth of your laughter renewing him with energy.

draping your arms tighter around his neck you can’t help but allow your body to relax – he was unusually comfortable. you listen to gojo waffle on about the intricacies of digimon or complaining how shoko stole his conditioner the other day, “but joke’s on her, it’s actually suguru’s. i steal his all the time, that idiot hasn’t even realised yet.”

“oh man, wait ‘til i tell suguru..” you snicker, unclasping your hands around his neck to take out your phone from your coat pocket. with a gasp, gojo jostles you obnoxiously, causing you to throw your arms around his neck again in an attempt to hold on.

“hey! i almost dropped my phone, you ass. you’re such a baby.” you huff, making a mental note to still tell suguru as punishment for being tossed around like a sack of potatoes.

“i have no idea what you’re going on about!” he says with a mischievous smile.

“soooo, what were you like as a kid, babe?” he asks. “what do you mean?” you ask, caught off guard by his unusual question. “what was baby grumps like?”

“what do you mean? me but just smaller.” you deadpan, continuing to absentmindedly stare up at the starless sky, it looked pretty from his point of view.

“so, you’re tellin’ me that you’ve always been this grumpy, damn i feel sorry for – ouch, just a joke! i was just joking! ” he whines as you lightly tug on his hair.

“m’ only grumpy around dumbasses.” you sarcastically smile at him.

“pff you’re the dumbass, dumbass. okay, okay. well then what did you do to have fun with your friends?” he questions, easily carrying you through the darkening streets. “i… uh read books, and i’d cook..”

“no, not nerd stuff, like fun stuff. did you sneak out? get up to some trouble with your friends or something?” “.. uh no. this is my first time sneaking out.” “no fucking way, babe!” he turns his head to meet yours. you blink, annoyed that your blushing face was prominent in the reflection of his dark glasses. you lean back slightly, unnerved at the sudden closeness of his face to yours, you could almost imagine the feeling of the brush of his cheek against yours or the feeling of his long eyelashes against your skin.

“i mean… it’s kinda new that i have people to share things with...” you mumble, focusing your eyes on the button of his uniform instead of his distracting face, your twitching hands clasping tightly around his neck.

“yeah, i get that.” he chimes in quickly, his warm hand squeezes your thigh gently, offering comfort. “but it’s fun though, even when it’s a little scary isn’t it?”

you nodded. maybe you weren’t so different, you and gojo. you were starting to see the cracks in his mask, or maybe you just knew him better or he was letting you see him – either way, you decided that knowing satoru wasn’t all that bad.

“did you sneak out when you were a kid?” “uh,duh! no way i’d stay in that hellhole longer than I had to. everything and everyone was super traditional and boring.”

you hum in understanding, gojo was never one for tradition often getting in trouble with the higher ups, yaga and even occasionally geto. although you understood the need for it, you did see gojo’s point – tradition did sound rather stiff and limiting. you couldnt imagine the security and pressure a child of the big three clans faced growing up, but gojo’s childhood must have been one that you couldn’t fathom. “where’d you go then?” you asked, enjoying the warmth radiating off of him, cozy and comfy as you leaned your chin on his shoulder, his soft coat against your cheek. “i’d wait til everyone was asleep and just wander around town.”

“where’d you like to go?”

“heian-jingu is pretty peaceful at night, i liked feeding the koi. heh, did you know, they like peas?” you giggle, “you fed them peas, gojo?” “well i tried different things! but i could sneak peas out of the kitchens the easiest and they liked them the best.” he counters, side stepping a puddle on the dark streets, “sneaking out was great until i got caught.”

“eh? did you get in trouble?” “oh for sure, babe. but i’m the chosen one, so like, what could they do? stop me?” he jeers, catching your grimace. “you’re such a brat.” you amusedly snort, catching his bright eyes behind his glasses. “you think im fun! im a cool brat though, right? i’m cool!”

“mmmhm” you tease him, enjoying the little pout that threatens to grow on his face. “you must’ve been happy when you started at school, hey? must have been a big adjustment.” “god yeah, ya have no idea.” he says, “i couldn’t imagine that people lived like this all the time.” “like what?” you tilt your head. “with all this freedom.” “mhm, and… happiness.” you add softly, so quietly that you think he misses it. but when gojo turns to look at you with an expression you don’t quite understand and a slight nod, you wonder if that’s the only thing he’s heard.

you blink in understanding as you lean down to lean your cheek against his shoulder. with the dark sky above and the silence of the streets acting as your only other companions, your mind wanders at the thought of you and gojo’s shared relief and confusion at finding a home at jujutsu tech. loneliness recognizes loneliness after all.

and in this moment suspended in time, with your legs dangling in the cold air, thighs being held up by his strong hands, feeling his soft laughter against your chest – you cant help but think that perhaps you might have found another home.

gojo watches you in amusement as you happily carry your donut in a little paper bag, practically running to the bench at the park near the store. when you were happy, it was easy to tell – it radiated through your whole body, every part of you perked up in delight.

he smiled at how happy this donut made you – these simple things. gojo was already planning to take you to other places, maybe to fancier donuts since you liked them so much. or he could teleport you to try that donut place in kumamoto or maybe to get the matcha mochi donuts ones in kyoto since you liked matcha so much, maybe he could take you to heian-jingu and find out if the koi liked donuts. he hoped they did, because that would definitely make you laugh. if you were there with him, kyoto wouldn’t be as bad even with the gojo estate being so close by. as he took his seat next to you on the bench, stretching out his long limbs, he felt his worries from earlier in the day disappear, your presence giving him new light. he grins, unwrapping his own donut.

sighing dreamily as you take a bite out of your yuzu cream donut you softly groan in delight, finally getting what you were craving for all night. you were grateful that this place was 24 hours, this shop was your favourite ever since shoko showed it to you when you first arrived. god, you needed to thank her. “oy!” he says resting his head on your shoulder, you stare down at him with annoyance, ignoring the way his soft hair tickles your neck.

“babe tax.” he says simply, opening his expectant mouth.

you sigh, shrugging him off your shoulder, you just wanted another bite and you were running out of patience. “small bite gojo – gooojoo!” you whine as you watch gojo unlatch his jaw, ready to take the rudest bite out of your donut. “– small bite!! I SAID SMALL –” “mmrphhhfff – that was a small bite!” he says with his mouth full, defending himself from your weak shove. with a defiant look, you lean down and take a rather large bite of his chocolate cream donut that he was holding as he rolls his eyes.

“geez babe, you’re so bad at sharing.”

“mhm, y’know that chocolate one is pretty good,” you say as you thoughtfully chew your stolen bite.

“yeah? you wanna switch?” “nah, mine’s better.” you smile at him as he watches hypnotized by your tongue darting out to lick the chocolate cream off of your lip.

“y’good?” you ask, catching his stare, his eyes quickly darting down to his chocolate donut.

“ah, yeah. yeah, i am.” he recovers quickly, pink dusting the tips of his ears.

you nod as you take another bite of your donut, too busy enjoying the contrast of the crunch of the sugar granules that lace the outside the pillowy dough of your sweet treat, the contrast of the slight tang of the yuzu pastry cream offers a refreshingly smooth and citrusy palette cleanser.

“oh yeah! I got you something.”

you blink owlishly as he rustles through his coat pockets, popping the rest of the chocolate donut easily into his mouth. “you didn’t have to, gojo..” you say shyly. you hated receiving gifts, you always felt awkward receiving something that you probably didn’t deserve. “close your eyes.” he says, wiping the sugar off of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“... what? why?” you ask, a fourth of your donut still in your hands. “close your eyes – it’ll be fun. trust me.”

playfully you stuff the last bite of your donut into gojo’s surprised mouth.

“nmmpfffff babe, really?” his annoyed tone contradicts his softening eyes as you laugh at his cocked eyebrow. he quickly chews his mouthful of your yuzu donut as you dust the sugar from your hands.

hesitantly deciding to indulge him, you close your eyes with a sigh, your twitching palms splayed out. you could practically hear gojo’s excitement as he places a small rounded container into your small hands. opening your eyes you see that it’s a beautiful metal container filled with matcha from kyoto, rendering you speechless. “i just– i thought that.. i know they’re not matcha candies.. i tried looking for them.. but –” whipping your head to his face you see a rare sight – a bashful satoru gojo. your eyes widen. you blink, heart beating in your throat. he.. remembered? “ – whenever you miss your dad, you can have some.” you exhale quickly to ease the fluttering in your stomach. something was quickly building up within you, your eyebrows crinkle at the embarrassment of your watering eyes. your fingers feel the intricate swirling pattern engraved on the matcha tin. “ you don’t have to have it if you don’t like it, babe. i dunno, the lady at the shop said it was the best one they had… don’t worry i wont be offended if yo –”

he thought you didnt like it? he was ridiculous, he was – you throw caution to the wind. with strange ferocity you launch your betraying body into gojo, your arms finding a familiar home around his neck, your breathing evening out when you feel his warm chest against yours, your beating heart connecting with his. beating stronger now that you feel his surprised arms cage you in his scent, a silent pleased coo sprouting in him. “no. i – .. i love it…” you whisper timidly, hiding your face into his shoulder.

“yeah?” gojo starts rubbing your side soothingly. he hoped you couldn't see his pink cheeks in the dim light. he couldnt help but notice the way your frame felt that you easily slotted against his, the perfect fit.

“hey.. uhm.. i .. just thank you.”

he hums as you slowly release your hold on him – too soon for his liking. “you okay?”

you nod, focusing your attention on the tin, trying to ignore the comforting way that one of his arms was still hooked comfortably around your waist.

“hey, no running now, grumps,” he speaks softly, looking at you with a loaded expression. “yeah, i’m okay…” you lift your gaze to his, your eyes meeting a gentle blue, a softness you hadn’t seen before from him.

“y’sure?” you noticed the slight crease in his brow. the warmth in the way that he’d unconsciously rub your side to offer the only form of comfort that he knew from his childhood. a memory of a servant comforting the lonely future of jujutsu society when he cried all those years ago.

he was sweet when he wanted to be.

you nod. “i just.. i’m overwhelmed, I think.” “well, that’s better than being just whelmed right?”

“i don’t think that’s a thing, dude.” you chuckle, stepping away from his touch, still holding on to the tin of matcha, the coolness of the tin and the raised designs distracting you from his all consuming presence. if you were any closer for any longer, you think you’d drown in him. for once you were grateful for his stupid jokes.

“guess you got up to some fun stuff in kyoto?” you ask, attempting to overcome your embarrassment with grace, playing with a button on your jacket.

“ughhhhhhh, i guess you could call it that – those hags kept harassing me before i could sneak out. i'm just so glad to be home.” he says running down his face irritatingly. “‘m glad you’re back.” you say softly. you close your eyes immediately, berating yourself at the unintentional admission – it just slipped out , you couldn’t help it. but it was too late to take it back. “oh you are? so ya missed me, eh, babe?” he grins widely as if nothing pleased him more. and nothing has. “no, i’m just saying that it was too quiet when you were gone.” you stubbornly say fervently. he tsks impatiently. “just say it!” he stomps his foot irritatedly, leaning closer to you. “s’okay, i know you’re shy. here, here – i’ll start – i missed you when i was away, babe.” he says ruffling the back of his hair, the white strands picking up the artificial fluorescence of the street lights above. it looked as if he were glowing. “thanks.” “no! that’s not what you’re supposed to say!!!” throwing his hands up exasperatedly, deflating entirely at your words.

“you’re so bad at this, babe,” he groans, his arm settling around your shoulders. “you’re such an idiot, gojo,” you mutter, a new warmth apparent in your tone. but nothing gets past gojo, the warmth in your tone exploding in the pit of his stomach pleasantly. “you missed this idiot. don’t worry, you dont have to say it – i know sugu and shoko can’t bother you like i can,” he says as you allow him to rock your shoulder against his, pulling your body to sit close against him.

regardless of the truth, you didnt want to feed his enormous ego any more so you shrug off his arm with a scalding look. as you reach into your jacket pocket to fiddle with your phone charm – a nervous habit that you’ve unconsciously developed. taking out your flip phone your eyes widen in shock.

“shit! It’s 5AM –” as you stand up quickly, whipping your gaze to gojo.

“eh?! no way!” gojo stands quickly, dusting his thighs off, while taking out his own phone to confirm the surprising news, he whistles lowly, “damn, 5:13 that’s crazy.”

“i know, i guess we lost track of time…” “seems like it.. c’mon, i’ll teleport us back” without any fuss you hook your arm with his. playing with the sleeve of his jacket, you hoped that he was more accurate this time, yaga was known to get up early and you needed to get to your rooms before he noticed. sure gojo and geto often got in trouble and were used to the punishments, but you and ieri were more sneaky about your mischief, managing to get away without any reprimanding and you wanted to keep it that way.

“i’m sure yaga’s still asleep, we’ll be fine…” he mutters, raising an eyebrow as you wind an arm around his back. “just in case,” you whisper as gojo pretends to rolls his eyes, a smile peaking through his twitching lips.

suddenly, you feel the soft plush of your bed underneath your thighs – your blankets messy right where you left them. releasing the breath you’ve been holding in, you take in your surroundings unconsciously squeezing gojo’s arm tighter in relief as you hear him chuckle.

although the bed was messy just like you left it, the colour of your bed sheets and comforter was.. wrong. blinking rapidly, you notice that the room was strangely larger than yours. thick, old books on jujutsu were organized neatly on tall bookshelves where your desk was supposed to be, there were many stuffies around the room in varying sizes some that you vaguely recognized – “oh fuck – ” he swears loudly, realization on his paling face, an incredulous laugh dancing on his lips. you aggressively drop his arm that you were clinging on to, quickly catching on.

“are you fucking serious right now??!“ you whisper shout at gojo, his tall figure cowering amidst your outburst. “you fucking teleported us right into yaga’s room you fucking idio -“

you feel the mattress shift, and then you feel a familiar cursed energy surge, a tidal wave easily drowning both of you.

fuck.

“and what,” yaga’s deep baritone calls, fury carefully held back, “are you two doing up at this hour?” your panicked eyes meet his glowing mischievous ones, a laugh emerging faintly on his grinning face. “babe, run. run right now-” you feel gojo push you off the mattress, as your legs make a break for it. in the distance you hear gojo’s squawking as yaga grabs him easily by the collar. you quickly run across yaga’s room, thinking that you vaguely hear gojo’s smart mouth attempting to lessen the damage with lame excuses.

yaga yells your name just before you reach the door but you don’t hear it. you’re not sure who’s laughing louder - you or gojo.

snackies!tags: @starmapz @ghost-buddies

a/n: hi pals, it's been a while! thank you for being patient with this chapter. aren't they sweet? i just need them to get it together! AHH! see you in the comments (,,♡ᵕ♡,,)

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amazinglyashy · 18 hours ago

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hi! i was wondering if i can request lads boys comforting their s/o bc their cat has passed. my baby passed today and i’m grieving really hard. thank you and have an amazing day🫶🏻

Moving this one up immediately in my box just to express my condolences. Your baby was very loved, I'm sure, and I hope you get through this tough time with care <3 I'm sorry for your loss. It's a tough time, regardless of who you're losing. My partner's grandpa passed a couple years back and I remember us crying, laughing and bowling, crying again, and talking a lot. Heck, I went to a craft store right after I heard the news and wandered around for two hours without any goal. I think I bought lolipop sticks. Take care love <3 You'll get through this. I know it's hard.

LaDS men when your pet cat has passed away

Xavier -

Since he lives so close by, your baby was his baby too, so he's devastated. Not equally so, he knows you spent more time with them, and you had them long before you had met him, but still- the pain exists.

The both of you are a bundle of blankets for a long while, just lying in the comfort and going through the both of your phones as you look for every single photo or video that has your cat in it, even just a little bit.

Lots of tears, but lots of laughs as well.

Everything is clear and apparent with every single memory the two of you go through- every little quirk your cat had, every little habit they had-

You both have a really nice time just talking about your cat, and any of the goofy mischief they used to get up to.

Of course you cry, and of course Xavier holds you through it. He knows how hard this is for you, and he knows it'll pass.

But until then, he's got you.

He's always got you.

Zayne -

He may be pragmatic to an extreme sometimes, but when it comes to grieving, he knows how hard it can be on the human psychic.

Not to mention on someone like you, who's already been through enough.

He'll definitely ask you if you want a hug, and if the answer is yes, he'll hold you, squeezing you so snugly and for so long that surely his muscle memory doesn't know a different position anymore.

Warm tea or cocoa, his old cardigan on your shoulders, pillows and blankets surrounding you on the couch, and just…

A lot of care.

If you ask him for any opinions or advice, he probably won't be able to give it to you. He doesn't want to risk anything coming out abrasive when you're still so tender, so he'll settle for condolences and anything comforting he can think of.

"I know it hurts. And you can try as you might, but the hole they left won't ever manage to be blocked out. All you can do is keep going, and hold their memory close."

Sylus -

Deep breath, it's going to be alright.

Loss is definitely something he's familiar with- and it's partially why he doesn't have anyone of his own. Mephisto may have a personality, but he's also mechanical. There's no way for him to disappear, because every bit of data in him gets saved, just in case.

But there's also no way your cat will disappear either, because Sylus has saved every memory of her, to make sure you will always have something should this day arrived.

He just didn't expect it to come so soon.

Doesn't matter what job he has, it's left to Luke and Kieran. He's by your side to care for you in whatever capacity you may need. He takes a lot of initiative, but he also asks you a lot of questions too. He doesn't want to risk making you uncomfortable, and he knows you're extra tender right now.

A lot of physical affection if that's what you need, and a lot of ideas to help you through it- whether he takes you out somewhere to help distract you from the pain, or goes through old memories with you to help you grieve through it, he'll do anything.

For as long as you may need.

Rafayel -

He hated cats.

Except for this one.

That was partially your fault, but also partially the darned cat's fault for being such a love.

He's devastated, both for you, and for himself.

He'll hug you- kiss you. Anything he can think of that usually cheers you up, even though he knows there's really nothing that's going to help right now.

He's been there, he's experienced loss. He knows what you're going through, and unfortunately- he knows that also means there's not really any helping it.

Someday when you're ready- could be in a month, could be three years from now, it doesn't matter at all him- he'll make you probably one of the favorite gifts you'll ever receive from him.

It's a portrait of your past baby, flowing full of life and color with eyes that sparkle almost as well as theirs did back when they were still around.

Almost.

And sometimes, 'almost' is more than enough to help ease the pain.

#.writey #love and deepspace #lads #lds #x reader #sylus x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #<3

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 days ago

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Cold ~ Part 2

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / CHRONIC ILLNESS MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2,020ish

Summary: Logan becomes overprotective of you.

Notes: I hope this part makes some sense… I got sick yet again so I'm really craving someone to take care of me.

Cold ~ Part 1

Logan became a master at taking care of you during an arthritic flare-up. The consequence of that was that he also became a master at doing everything he could to make sure that you didn’t flare up. When is why he was marching towards you, with a clear look of anger.

“What are you doing?” He asked as you were stretching in the Danger Room.

“Uh, stretching,” you responded, continuing your movements. “I have a training session with Scott in a few minutes.”

“Not anymore. You’re not training.”

“Logan, I can’t gain more strength in my powers without training.”

“You’ve trained twice already this week.”

“And my current goal is three times.”

“You’re not ready for it yet.”

“I think I know what I’m ready for, Logan.”

“No. You don’t. I can sense that you’re overdoing it.”

“I’m feeling fine. I’m going to train.”

“Everything okay here?” Scott asked, feeling the tension as he entered the room.

“Yes.” / “No.”

“Okay, then,” Scott said, slowly backing up.

“I’m training, Logan,” you argued, standing your ground.

“Like hell you are,” he grumbled.

The two of you stared each other down, trying to see which one of you would break first, though you both knew the answer. With a scoff and a stop of your foot, you grabbed your training bag and threw it at Logan.

“Since I’m so weak, carry that back to my locker,” you huffed, marching off.

Logan sighed, shoulders slumping. He didn’t want to be the bad guy in your life; he was just worried. He also simply cared deeply for you in a way he hadn’t cared for anyone in far too long. He hated seeing you in pain and would do anything to prevent the pain you were forced into constantly. Logan had even talked to Hank about somehow using his healing mutation to help you. Hank said it was impossible. So Logan was forced to keep a careful eye on you, no matter if that meant you were often mad at him.

~~~

You did your best to avoid Logan for the next few days. But no matter how hard you tried, Logan was there, stopping you from training, or carrying heavy items, or using your mutation. The anger was festering inside of you, and it all came to a boiling point when you were called into a mission briefing. Everyone was already in the briefing room when you slipped in. You hung back by the door, trying to prevent Logan from seeing you just yet.

“The base that you will be infiltrating is in an interesting location,” Charles explained. The table everyone was surrounding changed to show the base. “It is several hundred feet down in the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Long Island. Due to their security system, there is only one way to reach it.” Charles’ eyes fell on you, causing the rest of the team to turn and look.

“No,” Logan immediately said. “No fucking way.”

“Logan, Y/N has been training for this. She has known about this mission for weeks now and is prepared.”

“Don’t care. She’s not a part of this. Find a different way.”

“Do I get any say in this?” You piped up.

“No,” Logan quickly responded, still focusing on Charles. “She’s not going. It’s too dangerous.”

You were growing angrier and angrier, forcing yourself to clench your fists as you felt the water pipes in the wall begin to tremble. Jean noticed and came over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Why don’t we take a break and reconvene later?” Ororo suggested.

“Later or not, Y/N is not going,” Logan argued.

“It’s not your choice!” You yelled. “It’s mine! I can do what needs to be done.”

“No, you can’t! You are too weak.”

A few gasps were heard throughout the room.

“Weak?” You repeated, both hurt and angered. “That’s what you think of me?” Suddenly, the pipes burst in the walls.

“Enough!” Charles commanded. “Y/N will be participating in the mission. And you will all be leaving at nightfall.”

You rushed out of the room, trying to hide the tears threatening to fall. You could hear loud footsteps behind you, already knowing who it was. A large hand caught your wrist, forcing you to stop, but you didn’t turn around.

“You can’t go,” Logan’s voice was stern but slightly wavered at the end.

“You’re not in charge of me, Logan,” you replied, trying not to let him know how you were feeling. “I am going on this mission, no matter if you think I’m weak or not.” You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, but his grip only tightened. “Let me go, Logan.”

“Not until you drop out of the mission.”

You finally looked at him, anger replacing hurt. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Y/N—“

With a flick of your free hand, the pipes in the hallway walls broke. The water shot out of the walls and pummeled Logan, throwing him back and away from you. You were breathing heavily as you stopped the water. Not wanting Logan to see how hard that was for you, you quickly left.

~~~

The jet ride was completely silent. You grabbed the pilot seat next to Scott so that you didn’t have to look at Logan. You could feel Logan’s eyes staring daggers into you.

“We’re here,” Scott announced, having the jet hover over where the base was located. He looked over at you. “You ready?”

“Yes,” you responded, determined.

“Great.” Scott stood. “Everyone get tethered up, then Y/N will clear a channel once everyone is ready.”

“I’m not going down,” Logan said. “I’m staying with Y/N.”

“We need you down there, Logan,” Jean said. “We’ll all be connected through the comms.”

“I can handle myself,” you added. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

You could see Logan’s jaw clench tighter. He let out a grunt before focusing on getting tethered up. Once you were sure they were all ready, you opened the bottom of the jet up. You took a deep breath before stretching your arms towards the ocean water and creating an open circular channel.

“Let’s go!” Scott said, jumping down first. Jean and Ororo quickly followed, with Logan lingering behind, watching you.

“Go, Logan!” You shouted.

He watched you for a few more seconds before jumping down with the rest. You ground your teeth together as you began to feel the strain of using your mutation like this.

“Alright, Y/N,” Scott said over the comms. “We’re in. We’ll let you know when we need the channel opened.”

“Got it,” you responded.

As you let the water go, you stumbled back, falling to the ground. You could feel the achiness start to set into your joints. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe you were weak. The jet suddenly shook as it was hit. You fumbled over to the pilot’s seat, trying to steer the jet away.

“Guys!” You shouted into the comms. “We have a situation up here. I’m being fired on!”

“What?!” A chorus of voices yelled over the comms.

“It looks like they got a few of their own jets in the sky.” The jet rocked as it got hit again. “Shit!”

“Y/N?!” Logan’s worried voice flooded through the speakers.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You quickly punched a few buttons. “I’ve gone into stealth mode. Hopefully, that holds them for a little bit, but that means you have to free those mutants fast.”

It was another ten minutes before Scott gave you the signal to reopen the channel. You reopened the bottom doors and focused all your energy on opening the channel. Unfortunately, that also meant that the opposing side could find the jet. The jet shook yet again with another hit.

“Hurry!” You urged. “We’re open for hits!”

Scott and Jean came up the tethered lines first, each with a mutant with them. Ororo was next, two mutants with her, and then Logan with the last one. He could immediately sense that you were hurting more than the strain on your face was giving away. Untethering himself, Logan headed for you, but the jet shook once again before he could get to you. You released the hold you had on the water as you flew up and rammed into the ceiling. You let out a cry of pain. Logan moved fast, sliding as he barely caught you before you hit the floor.

“I’ve got you, I've got you,” he whispered, holding you tightly against him.

“Hang on!” Scott shouted. “We’re going to get out of here!”

Everything hurt inside. You couldn’t even hold onto Logan, just laying against him limply as you cried. Logan did his best to hold you steady as Scott flew the jet every which way to avoid getting completely shot down. Jean ended up using her powers to keep Logan and you still as everyone’s hearts were breaking at the cries and whimpers of pain coming out of you.

It took far too long for Logan’s liking for Scott to lose the other jets and return to the mansion. As gently as Logan could manage, he carried you out of the jet and to your room. He laid you down before moving around the room to grab a heating pad, medication, and a change of clothes for you.

“You were right,” you whispered. If Logan didn’t have enhanced hearing, he would have missed it.

“About what?” He responded, bringing all the items over to you.

“I’m weak…”

“No, I— I didn’t mean it that way, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you did… and yes, I am… I shouldn’t even be on the team. I can’t even handle one mission.”

Logan sighed, trying to get his thoughts together before he spoke. You took it as a sign that he let you win. With a whine, you sat up.

“You can go,” you told him. “I can take care of myself.”

“No,” he responded gruffly.

“Logan,” you sighed. “I’ve taken care of myself before… flare-ups can’t stop me. I’ve got to keep living.”

“There. Right there. That’s why you’re the strongest person I have ever met.”

“But you said—“

“I know what I said, and I… I’m sorry. You are not weak. I just… I, God, I’m terrible at this.” His hand raked through his hair. “I—Sweetheart, I care so much about you. I am constantly worried about you, but it’s out of…”

“Out of what, Lo?”

He gave you a knowing look. “I think you know what.”

“I think you need to say it so I don’t go assuming things.”

“I… I love you, sweetheart. And I just hate to see you in pain. I wish that I could take it from you, and trust me, I asked Hank about it, and I—”

You winced as you placed your hand on top of Logan’s mouth to stop his rambling. “I love you, too. And I know that I haven’t said it enough, but thank you for taking care of me.”

His hand carefully wrapped around your wrist as he kissed your hand and moved it down to your lap. “Always.” He looked at you, wanting to kiss you, but he could sense the pain you were in. “What do you need?”

You looked away. “I… I can’t change.”

“Alright.”

“I need some heat.”

“I grabbed your heating pad.” He held it up.

“Could you hold me?”

“Are you sure? I’m a lot heavier than you and I—“

“And your body is my personal heating pad. Please, Logan.”

“How do you want me?”

You winced as you moved to lie down. Logan’s hand hovered over your body, not knowing exactly what to do to help. You moved onto your side, back facing Logan. He got the hint and carefully maneuvered around you so that he was the big spoon and you were the little spoon.

“Like this?” He muttered nervously.

“It’s perfect,” you replied.

“You sure. I can—“

“Logan. Just hold me.”

“Okay.” He leaned in and kissed the back of your neck before resting his head there. “I’ll hold you as long as you need, sweetheart.”

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gothcsz · 2 days ago

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part six of the neighbors series. thank you to the anon who sent this angsty prompt for getting the gears turning in my head, hehe. these two are something else, i tell ya. the miscommunication is just so... i am pushing them together forcing them to kiss at this point lol hope you guys like it 🖤 and feel free to send me more things for this little au!

javier peña x f!reader. ~2k word count. nothing too extreme to tag, it's straight up just angst and yearning.

Being with Mateo is nice, sweet even. He calls when he says he will, makes you laugh, and remembers how you take your coffee. And you really do try with him. You take interest in his hobbies, hold his hand when you’re walking down the street, and even let him take you to bed.

The sex is fine, nothing spectacular and just barely above average. Being with him is normal and safe.

But every now and then, your mind drifts to what it would be like if it was Javier in his place. You shake those thoughts off as fast as they come. If you’re going to move on, it has to be for real, not half-heartedly.

It’s a little easier to bury those feelings now that Javier is caught up in something—or someone—of his own.

She’s over at his place constantly, her laugh sometimes drifting through the walls late at night. It feels like they’re always whispering to each other, talking until all hours, and you hate how that little spark of jealousy sits in your chest.

You catch yourself wondering what her name is, how they met, if she gets that look from him—the one that he used to give you when he’d make you laugh.

You pass Javier in the hallway sometimes, and when he offers a half-smile and rushed, “Hey,” you return it with something tight and brief, barely meeting his gaze.

But he’s always in his own world these days, buried in work, and if he notices you distancing yourself, he doesn’t show it. Or maybe he’s too distracted to care. Either way, it reinforces the choice you’ve made to keep things this way.

Every time you pass his closed door, you tell yourself you’re doing the right thing. Him being absent is the push you need to keep stepping back, to keep looking at apartments a few neighborhoods over, just in case.

One day, Mateo notices you’re distracted during dinner, poking at your food more than eating it.

“Querida,” he says, nudging your hand, “you alright?”

“Yeah.” You force a smile. “Just thinking about work.” You try to shake off the odd feelings you can’t seem to put to rest—the unease of Javier wrapped up in someone else and it working for him but not for you, leaving you more restless than before.

He’s become a background hum of missed chances and bad timing.

Mateo catches the shift in your expression and rests his hand on yours. “If it’s about your place, I don’t mind helping you look around. Maybe even do a little apartment tour spree together this weekend?”

His warmth stirs something in you, a pang of guilt for not giving him the part of you that’s still tucked away. “Yeah, that sounds nice. I’d like that.”

Javier’s schedule continues to keep him out of the complex and you can’t remember the last time you saw him at the embassy.

Granted, you work in different departments but still, there was enough overlap for you to at least catch glimpses of him throughout the day.

There’s a wall between you two—one he doesn’t even realize is there.

One evening, as you’re walking up to your door, you hear his low voice in the hallway, murmuring something to that beautiful brunette that you feel so strongly against because of your own insecurities.

It strikes a nerve, seeing her leaned up against his door like that with Javier crowding her, his fingers tucking a strand of her curly hair behind her ear.

They don’t even notice you and that fucking stings, then you remind yourself that you’re being ridiculous and unlock your door quickly, barely giving him a second glance when he finally turns his head to acknowledge you. You just shut your door.

Later, as you sit by your window with a glass of wine, a part of you wishes you could confront him about it—how you miss having a friend even if these feelings you’ve grown for him have tainted your friendship.

But instead, you brush it off. It’s better this way, the distance and silence. Cutting him off quietly.

You have Mateo now, and maybe in time, those feelings you’re trying to force yourself to feel for him will start to feel more real.

In the meantime, you keep Mateo close and Javier at arm’s length, praying the ache in your chest will fade into something easier to ignore.

When things with Helena spiral, Javier’s entire world dips into a darkness he struggles to fight off.

He’d been steeling himself for months, pretending that what he felt for her was just a part of the job, just another way to gather intel, to stay sharp. But things had shifted, unraveled into something he wasn’t prepared for.

She had become more than an informant; something tangible and real, someone he genuinely cared about. He should have known better than to let it get personal—mixing affection with the job, letting his heart get tangled up in a life as brutal as theirs.

It’s in the wake of this disaster that you pop into his mind again. The truth is, he’d forced you out of it completely, buried you beneath his work, his duties, his time with her.

After all, what place did someone like him, wound up in the cartel’s mess, have with someone like you? You were safe, building a life with an uppity banker, someone who could give you things Javier’s world would never allow.

Security, stability, and something close to a normal life—things he could barely imagine anymore.

And he’d see it, too, in the way you were with Mateo. He could hear it sometimes through the walls, that light laugh of yours, the one that’d once been his to hear on a quiet afternoon or over a shared meal. Now it belonged to someone else.

Javier would watch the asshole come by, flowers in hand, gifts in his arms, looking like the kind of guy he could never be, the kind of guy you deserved.

Maybe that’s why he fell for Helena so quickly, so intensely. She was tough, resilient, unafraid of the shadows he’d cast around him. With her, he didn’t have to pretend.

They shared the same night-bound existence and he didn’t care that she was a prostitute. She understood, even when he didn’t, the danger of crossing those lines in his work, the way it weighed on him, without flinching at the blood on his hands.

But now… he’s haunted by what he should have seen coming. She’d been hurt, and every part of him feels complicit.

He couldn’t protect her, couldn’t protect himself from feeling it all in his bones, and the guilt wraps around his heart, squeezing so tight it might burst.

The weight of it pulls him under, and he finds himself wondering how he’s going to claw his way out. His work is far from over.

He's at the bottom of a bottle of bourbon one night when he realizes just how long it's been since he’s really seen you.

The ache that realization brings feels like another knife twisting in his chest. Your bright eyes, that quirky laugh you give when he actually manages to crack you up, and the way you can turn his chaos to calm without even trying—they’ve been missing from his life for months now, and he’s feeling the loss more deeply than he wants to admit.

With sluggish, heavy steps, he staggers across his apartment until he ends up at your door. He knocks, too loudly, too long, until you swing it open, looking bleary-eyed and definitely frustrated. He’s clearly woken you up.

“Hola, cariño—”

“It’s two in the goddamn morning, Javier. ¿Qué necesitas?”

You’ve got your arms crossed, and he blinks a few times, almost impressed with the improvement of your accent. He opens his mouth, trying to form the words, but you beat him to it, eyeing him up and down.

“Are you drunk? You reek of liquor, Peña.” Your tone is flat. “You need to go back home.”

“Te extraño,” he slurs, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “I can’t be in there another second without feelin’ like I’m losing my damn mind.”

You’re sizing him up, at a war with yourself, and he lets his gaze wander even in his bleary state. You’re wearing that familiar robe with a slip dress underneath, and he has no idea if it helps or makes things worse.

“Then you should probably call your girl,” you say, voice cool. “Or go upstairs and bother Murphy. I have to be up early.”

You go to close the door, but his large palm spreads against it, steadying himself. “Javier—”

“Please,” he says, voice softer. “Don’t do this. Not tonight.”

For a moment, you search his eyes, your own gaze conflicted, and then, almost begrudgingly, you sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, “but you’re out by the time I’m up for work in the morning.”

You let him in, and he feels that distance in your voice like a physical wall between you. It’s his own fault—he knows it, hates it, but here you are, standing back to let him in anyway.

He stumbles, almost falling flat on his face, and your smaller hands catch him with a muttered curse. Like he’s a child.

You steer him to the couch with an exasperated huff, and even as you help him settle, he’s not sure if it’s the liquor making his chest tighten or the fact that you’re handling him with more care than he deserves.

You wrestle him out of his jacket, tugging it from his broad shoulders, then go for his boots.

The grunts you make in effort, the feeling of your hands on him—even if it’s just to deal with his drunk ass—makes him ache in a way that alcohol only magnifies.

His thoughts drift to places they have no business going. He’d tried to move past the want he felt for you, burying it under other bodies, other names, other distractions. But here you are in a thin slip dress under your robe and all he can think about is how it’d feel to have you moving against him, to finally let his hands roam your curves, bring you pleasure and fuck you like he’s sure no man has. Not even your goody-two-shoes of a boyfriend.

Once he’s settled on your couch, you leave, only to return a moment later with a glass of water, setting it on the coffee table with a quiet sigh. “If you need to puke, please use my bathroom,” you say flatly, “not the new couch.”

“New couch?” he mumbles, sitting up on his elbows and frowning at it. “What was wrong with the old one?”

You just shake your head, the patience gone from your expression. “Goodnight, Javi,” you say flatly, but he stops you before you leave.

“Thank you for this and I’m sorry—”

“Just stop,” you cut him off with a deep sigh. “You’re always apologizing and I don’t want to hear it. Get some rest.” And then you’re gone, the door to your room closing softly but definitively behind you.

After that night, he tries to make things go back to normal but the distance that happened during that time seems impossible to close now.

Every attempt he makes to lessen it only meets the cool edge of your guarded smile or your quick, polite excuses to cut conversations short. The silence between you has settled too deeply now, like it’s found a home where friendship used to be.

He doesn’t know what to do and you’re still stuck in your forced delusion that Mateo is what you want.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️: @persephone-girl . @almostempty . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @samanthajonees . @dontlookatme121 . @thundermartini . @dinanabuu . @cherrysugarx . @dontlookatme121 . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

#javier pena fanfic #javier pena fic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader

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huopilled · 2 days ago

Text

⤷ COUPLE UP — k.mj

masterlist | next

ೃ࿔࿐ CHAPTER I — GAME START

the cameras were focused on her, the studio lights making her sweat a little. she hoped they weren't able to see the beads of sweat through the cameras. yn always got a little nervous when she was in front of a camera, it was ironic that her whole career was built on cameras and other people.

"okay yn you ready?"

she cleared her throat as silently as she could, "yes."

"great. three... two... start!"

yn had to do something for her intro before talking. she decided on a simple wave, as her fans talked about how cute she looks while waving. she decided to play it safe.

"state your age and name please."

"lee yn. nineteen."

"nice to meet you yn. first we will explain the details and the rules of the game to you. is there anything you'd like to ask?"

she shook her head.

"great. so this game..."

they had explained everything thoroughly before she even signed the contract to agree to play the game so she knew what they were talking about. deciding to tune the mc out, yn nodded here and there letting the man know that she was listening. i mean she wasn't but... whatever.

"so yn, what do you think about the game overall?"

she'd tried to come up with something cheeky to say but she couldn't find anything. but she hoped it wouldn't matter how much fanservice she did right now because the game was full of fanservice anyway.

"i think it's great! i've never seen something like this before so i'm exited. i'm also very happy to meet new people!"

well she didn't lie that much this time, she really was excited. she was also nervous but no one had to know about that part. i mean if she even said it no one would care, and her fans would probably try to look into it and come up with crazy theories. god, she really didn't want to deal with that.

when the shooting was over they let her sit around for a little bit before getting her into the car that would take her to the house she would be staying at. she liked car rides, minus the part where she would get carsick. she usually preferred sleeping through the rides but she had to talk to a camera this time. it was okay i guess, she just felt weird talking to a camera all by herself.

"hey guys," yn smiled, a little shy, "did you miss my pretty face? i'm kidding, or am i?"

she continued to talk for five minutes before stopping the video and closing her eyes, hoping to get some sleep before a tiring day.

after a while, yn opened her eyes. coincidentally they had just parked the car and opened her door for her to get out. after stepping out of the car she looked at the building in front of her in awe. she hadn't expected it to be this big but it made sense, since there would be seven other people staying in there.

after going inside and looking at the rooms yn was told to sit down at the table that they temporarily put inside of the living room. after she sat down, they quickly started recording.

"okay so, you're going to choose someone after reading these papers and that'll be your partner from now on, so choose wisely."

"oh this is interesting..."

she started to read slowly, sometimes raising an eyebrow or two, sometimes smiling. she'd read all four papers when she picked the third one.

"this," she showed her paper to the camera "is my partner."

"okay," said the main mc "can you tell us what made you choose that person?"

"um... the fact that she can speak three languages is pretty cool. and it says here that she likes eating ice cream in winter and wearing mostly black clothes. we have those in common."

"okay great. thank you yn."

she smiled and nodded, slowly getting up from her seat and going over to one of the rooms. she laid on one side of the bed and slowly drifted to sleep. an hour later a staff member woke her up, telling her that she had to get a few photos taken. yn nodded and followed the staff out of the room.

after the shooting, she realized she had to eat or else she would be too hungry to sleep after. she opted for ramen, a quick and easy dish, also quite tasty for a packaged food.

as she was eating she began to wonder who her partner would be and what games they would play. she hoped it wasn't someone mean, she really didn't have the energy to deal with a mean person especially for a long time.

she sighed and decided to stop thinking. she didn't want to ruin the surprise by trying to guess who she'd be staying with anyway.

taglist— @saysirhc

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endereies · 2 days ago

Text

FREEDOM OF SPEECH

No Nut November - Day 10

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ When Matt sees you with someone else, he couldn't help but admit how he feels

It was obvious that tensions were high. Anyone could see that. After being friends with the triplets for so long, you felt like things couldn’t change, yet you found yourselves proving that wrong. You saw the way he looked at you, only because you were looking at him too.

Everything, down to the way you acted and dressed revolved around him. You just couldn’t help it. You wanted, no, needed him to notice you, to see you.

Yet after what felt like years, his behaviour didn’t seem to change. You tried to convince yourself that he was just excellent at hiding his feelings towards you but if anything, they were on show.

“Yeah, this is y/n! She’s my best friend, the one I told you about.” A shudder crept up your spine as he introduced you. It shouldn’t have bothered you, but you just couldn’t help it. That’s all you were to him, a best friend. You tried to be grateful, after all you were friends with the fucking Sturniolo triplets. And here you were, pitying yourself because you wanted more with one of them.

You just couldn’t get over it, over him. How was it fair that he had total control over your mind. The little moments you used to fawn over just turned into self-deprecation. Any other girl you knew that had caught Matt’s eye wasn’t like you. They were prettier and had mastered the art of make-up. Their hair was styled and flawless even after the hours of a party. It was just something you couldn’t do.

Yet, his hand would still drop over your shoulder, rubbing your skin as you watching a film. He’d insist you borrow his jacket when it got cold, goose bumps rising to your skin. A few of them ended up in your persona collection after he denied the return saying, ‘keep it, they look better on you.’ There had to be something, right?

Months of trying felt pointless, flirting fell flat and as far as you were concerned? Matt still thought of you the same. You weren’t going to sit around anymore just pining over someone who obviously didn’t feel the same.

So, when another guy stood in front of you, a hand stretched out as an invitation for a dance, how could you say no. Gawking at Matt wasn’t going anywhere, and you didn’t want to never endlessly pray that he’ll pull you close. Why get your hopes up when an attractive man is stood in front of you now?

Although, when you placed your hand into his, Matt’s eyes were on you. He liked you, hell that man loved you. He didn’t miss anything you handed out to him. His anxiety just stepped in front whenever he wanted to act upon it. No amount of talks with his brothers fixed that.

He wasn’t dumb, he saw it burn in the man’s eyes. Lust. He only wanted a quick fuck, he wasn’t a newcomer. Unbeknownst to him, you had spent your time staring at Matt rather than scanning the crowd.

He tried to ignore it, he really did. But as much as he shared the feeling, he hears your laugh through the group of people. He heard everything. The flaunting, the flirting, and the way you let yourself giggle at any small thing he did.

After about ten minutes of his eyes tracing where his hands met her body, he’d had enough. He couldn’t believe it took him until you were in the arms of someone else to make him see just how much be didn’t want you to be with anyone else.

Before either of you knew it, his hand was wrapped around your wrist, dragging you away from the man.

“Hey! Matt?! What’s your problem” He didn’t listen, he only waited until you both were secluded.

“don’t go and dance around him, he’s just in it for a fuck.”

“Maybe I wanted that.” You crossed your arms, pouting like a small child.

“As if, you aren’t that type of person.” As much as you wanted to admit it, it felt wrong. You were leaning into another part of yourself. It hurt both of you.

“Oh really? As if you care about what I do.” Every sour thing came up your throat before you could stop it

“Excuse me? “His tone changed significantly as he etched closer, his hands now crossed over his chest.

“You haven’t batted an eye at me in months.”

“I have.” The more he spoke, the more be admitted things he wasn’t proud of.

“Hm. When then, name one time.” You wanted to believe him, but if you did. Could you bring yourself to trust him.

“Literally every night since I realised, I love you.”

Shit. Now he HAD fucked up.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

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sammylkcho · 2 days ago

Note

I beg of possessive sprout/GN! reader :3

- 🐺🔥💅

My first anon with emojis, welcome! It took me a while to write this, especially because it was something I was really excited to work on

I'm so sorry for the delay, I hope you like it!

Warnings/Notes: GN!Reader, possessive Sprout, jealous, just a little bit attitude of yandere, maybe..

For as long as you could remember, Sprout was always attached to you like gum, though it was odd—he was a strawberry, not gum.

More than once, your handler (the same one who managed Shelly) had to separate you both when it was time for your strict bed schedules in your respective rooms. Of course, just after midnight, Sprout would show up in your room with his pillow.

You didn’t mind these little things Sprout did at all—sometimes he even brought Cosmo, and it turned into a sleepover for the three of you! It was fun, and the best feeling in the world was taking a breather from everything around you. Especially for Sprout, who spent all day looking after the little ones at the Gardenview Center, not to mention the “special” days of the week with cooking demonstrations alongside Cosmo.

Sometimes, you felt a bit powerless, unable to share or lighten his exhaustion at the end of the day. You’d tell him he could take a break, even offering to keep a few kids with you (even if you weren’t the most popular toon) so he could get a quick rest, but he always turned it down, saying he was fine.

“I’m one of the mains; I can handle this. Besides, you should rest too! I could make you some cookies with Cosmo.”

You loved and hated that concern of his at the same time; sometimes it was overwhelming because, no matter how much you begged or asked him to take a break, the conversation always veered toward your well-being or baking you something you’d like.

Outside of those topics or the times you’d end up pouting in a corner, feeling helpless, everything was perfect. Being with the other toons was amazing; each had their own special charm that always managed to make you laugh. And of course, always with Sprout by your side (weird)—even he enjoyed being with everyone else.

But as they say, it was all too perfect to be true.

Boxten had been the first to be corrupted by the ichor.

Poor Poppy couldn’t believe her best friend had been turned into something like that. None of you believed it until Poppy tried to get close to him and was met with scratches and bruises marked across her skin.

They managed to pull her to safety just in time, bringing her to the elevator, and Tisha took care of her wounds, as there was no toon around who knew how to treat injuries.

"That… that wasn’t Boxten, was it?” you murmured, barely audible, resting your back against the elevator wall as you placed your right hand on the cold floor.

The sudden grasp of someone’s hand startled you for a moment. Turning, you realized it was your favorite strawberry.

Giving you one of his usual (this time, genuinely warm) smiles, he sat beside you, interlacing both your hands.

“You’re alright, aren’t you?” he asked, tilting his head to one side as he looked you up and down, searching for the slightest scratch.

“Yes.. I’m fine… it’s just, ugh.” With your left hand, you rubbed your face, struggling to find the right words for the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts inside you.

None of the toons had seen anything so violent, perhaps aside from the occasional squabble between kids or adults at Gardenview, but nothing like this.

“That thing wasn’t Boxten! It hurt Poppy; it didn’t seem to show her any compassion!” Your voice trembled with every word, and you could even feel your teeth chattering when you stopped talking.

“We saw him just fine this morning… he was fine…”

You began to sob, small tears escaping your eyes as you tried to calm yourself.

Gently, Sprout pulled you close, wrapping you in his arms and pressing you to his chest, with your face right where his scarf lay, not minding if it got wet from your tears.

“Shh… what matters is that we’re okay now, right?” he murmured.

“But Boxten and Poppy—”

“We’re okay.”

This time, it wasn’t a question; it was a confirmation, and you swallowed all your doubts and fears, nodding without another word.

He gave you one of those warm smiles he saved just for you. It was like freshly baked cookies—warm and sweet.

“We’re okay.” You repeated in a low but audible tone, curling up in his arms, trying to keep all the intrusive thoughts at bay.

When all the toons gathered in the lobby, they seemed like angry animals surrounding a single prey they all wanted to hunt down—Dandy.

The poor main seemed so relieved to see you when you arrived, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Oh,” he shouted, calling your name from where he was cornered, “give me a hand here! Some of them think there are monsters on certain floors, which is crazy because—”

“You’re trying to involve Y/N in your lie, Dandy?” Sprout interrupted, his voice so low that it startled some of the toons nearby.

“All I’m saying is that some of you are imagining things that aren’t true” Dandy replied, glancing between you and Sprout.

“And Y/N would understand better the lie you’re all plotting to spread. Right?”

Sprout’s grip on your hand tightened as Dandy spoke to you again, greatly angering him.

Why did he have to drag you into this lie he was planning?

“Boxten… that thing wasn’t Boxten. Boxten would never attack or hurt anyone, especially not Poppy.” You managed to say, shaking your head repeatedly as if trying to erase the image of Boxten attacking Poppy.

You could hear the voices of several toons rising as they confronted Dandy about the corrupted versions of various toons they had encountered or been attacked by.

In the midst of this chaos, Sprout’s voice brought you back to the present.

“Let’s go. We could find Cosmo and do something, just the three of us.” His voice was monotonous, but you didn’t pay it much mind, letting him lead the way.

Days went by, each shorter than the last, or one quicker than the next.

Several toons decided to form groups of eight to explore different floors and extract the ichor from some machines; the reasons for it faded from your mind under the stress and anxiety of possibly losing another toon.

What mattered was that you had Sprout, as unusual as he sometimes was.

You were in the elevator with Sprout, Goob, Glisten, Tisha, and Vee. This time, it was only the six of you since Toddles had been hurt by a twisted, and Rodger wanted to look after her.

As usual, you had your hand interlocked with Sprout’s, a gentle comfort.

The usual music from Dandy’s radio reached your ears, and you realized you hadn’t noticed when he arrived.

You turned slightly to look back at him, and when he caught your gaze, he immediately smiled and waved at you.

Not wanting to ignore him, you let go of Sprout’s hand for a moment and waved back.

Not five seconds passed before you noticed how quickly Sprout turned to look between you and Dandy. Dandy’s smile twisted into something that seemed to taunt Sprout without a word.

You looked at Sprout, noticing the leaves casting shadows on his face, making it difficult to discern his expression.

Before you could say anything, Dandy bid only you farewell before lowering his shop lever and disappearing, as he always did when the elevator reached its destination.

“You can wait outside while Goob distracts everyone, okay?” He took both your hands this time.

His sudden shift in demeanor puzzled you, but you simply nodded, stepping out as the elevator doors opened.

Sprout’s smile vanished once you were out of sight, replaced by a dark scowl.

“You shouldn’t lower yourself to Dandy’s level. He only does that to make you jealous,” Vee commented, her sudden presence by his side not surprising him at all.

“He thinks he’s the center of the universe with Y/N’s attention” he retorted, frowning at the thought of the bothersome flower.

“And you keep playing his "little, stupid and silly game".”

“I’m going to Y/N; I don’t trust Goob enough to keep all the twisteds distracted.” He changed the subject, moving in your direction.

“Let they breathe a little; even I’d feel suffocated if you were on me 24/7,” Vee commented, her tone serious.

Sprout halted, giving her a dark yet blank stare.

“Who are you to debate that?”

Without waiting for a response, he left the elevator, heading toward where you were. He’d left you alone on that floor long enough and still didn’t trust Goob’s distraction abilities.

Meanwhile, Vee grew frustrated with her friend’s childish, ridiculous behavior. He never seemed to leave you alone, even keeping you in the kitchen just for “company” or to show off his culinary skills.

Sometimes, she thought Sprout was even pushing his own limits, but she still trusted he couldn’t be so possessive.

Well.

She hoped you would set some boundaries too.

#dandy's world x reader #sprout x reader #sprout dandys world #dandys world x reader

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millyh23 · 1 day ago

Text

Fishy Business

Katie McCabe x Reader

word count:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Katie and Y/N had been living together for a few months now, and their cozy little apartment was beginning to feel a bit too quiet. The two had spent many nights discussing how to make their home feel more like a family, and one thought kept creeping up: getting a pet. They’d always joked about it, but now that the idea was on the table, it was time for some serious discussions.

“I’ve been thinking,” Katie began one afternoon, as she snuggled up to Y/N on the couch, “We should get a cat. They’re independent, clean, and they’re just… perfect.”

Y/N turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “A cat?” She grimaced slightly. “I’m not sure about that. Cats are… sneaky, and they don’t really care about you unless they want something.”

Katie’s face lit up, and she playfully nudged Y/N’s shoulder. “That’s what I love about them. They’re mysterious, and they’re so cute when they ignore you just enough to make you want their attention even more.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, but I want a dog. A big one. Someone who’ll love me no matter what and follow me around the house like a shadow. A loyal companion.”

Katie crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “A dog? They’re so needy. Always jumping on you, licking your face, begging for attention.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you, babe,” she teased, and Katie scowled playfully.

“I’m not needy!” Katie shot back with a grin. “I’m just affectionate. But you’re right about one thing… I do want someone who’ll follow me around. That way, I’m never alone.”

“Exactly,” Y/N agreed, her tone softening. “A dog would do that. A cat would just stare at me like I’m the hired help.”

The two fell into an awkward silence for a moment, both of them clearly invested in their opinions but not sure how to move forward.

Finally, Y/N broke the silence. “Okay, fine. You want a cat. I want a dog. What do we do now?”

Katie looked thoughtful for a second before grinning mischievously. “What if we get both?”

Y/N blinked, taken aback. “Both? You want two pets?”

Katie shrugged. “Why not? We could get a cat for me and a dog for you, and they can have each other as company when we’re both out.”

“Uh-uh,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “I’m not having a cat and a dog tearing up the place. It’ll be chaos.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. So we’ll have to compromise, right?”

The idea of compromise wasn’t one Y/N enjoyed, but she knew they needed to figure something out. After all, this was something important to both of them.

“What if we get a fish?” Y/N suggested hesitantly, a little unsure of how Katie would respond.

Katie paused, thinking. “A fish? Really?”

Y/N nodded. “It’s low-maintenance, no barking or meowing, and we can just watch it swim around. It’s like… the perfect middle ground.”

Katie sighed dramatically. “I wanted a furry little friend, not a fish that just floats around.”

“Well, I wanted a big dog who’ll run around the yard with me, but we’re not exactly in a house with a yard,” Y/N shot back, her tone teasing. “A fish will do just fine.”

Katie folded her arms, clearly not convinced. “Fine. We’ll get a fish. But I’m not going to be excited about it.”

Y/N grinned. “Well, at least we won’t have to deal with your cat fur all over the place.”

The two of them went to the pet store the next day, picking out a small aquarium, some plants, and a couple of colorful fish. They both looked at each other as they set up the tank, their eyes not exactly filled with excitement, but more with the realization that they’d just made a decision neither of them was truly happy about.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Katie muttered, half-laughing as she filled the tank with water.

Y/N chuckled, glancing over at her. “I know. It’s not the dog or the cat we wanted, but it’s something.”

Katie gave a mock-sigh. “I was hoping for a cat that I could cuddle. Now I’m stuck with a fish that… I can’t even pet.”

“Well, we can’t exactly pet a dog when it’s on a walk, can we?” Y/N shot back. “At least a fish won’t bite you.”

The two of them stared at the fish, their eyes softening just a little. The fish swam gracefully, moving in and out of the plants in the tank.

“It’s kind of peaceful, though,” Y/N admitted quietly. “I like watching it swim.”

Katie nodded, her arms crossing as she leaned against the counter. “Yeah, it’s kind of… relaxing.”

“I guess it’s not so bad,” Y/N said, glancing at Katie with a small smile. “And hey, if we ever change our minds, we can always get a cat or a dog later.”

Katie rolled her eyes but smiled, reaching out to poke Y/N’s side. “We’re not getting another pet. This fish is our baby now.”

Y/N laughed. “Sure, babe. Our fish baby.”

Katie shrugged. “At least it’s not a hamster. We’d be arguing about the cage size all week.”

As they both stood there, looking at the small, quiet fish, they realized that sometimes compromise wasn’t about getting exactly what you wanted. It was about making things work, even if neither of you was entirely thrilled with the outcome. And in the end, that was enough.

After all, they had each other. And a fish.

It had been two days since Katie and Y/N brought home their fish. The tank had settled in nicely in the corner of their living room, and the little fish, a shimmering orange and white goldfish with delicate fins, had quickly become a peaceful, if somewhat unexpected, addition to their home.

However, there was still one pressing issue left: the fish needed a name.

“Okay, we’ve been avoiding this long enough,” Y/N said, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the tank. The fish swam around, blissfully unaware of the importance of the conversation at hand. “It’s time to name the fish.”

Katie, who was lounging on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table, looked over at Y/N with a dramatic sigh. “I know. But what do we name it? We’re just going to call it ‘the fish’ forever, aren’t we?”

Y/N shot her a playful look. “Don’t tell me you’re not getting attached already.”

Katie rolled her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. “I mean, I’m not attached, but it’s hard not to get a little fond of something that doesn’t argue back.”

Y/N grinned. “Exactly. So, let’s give it a name.”

Katie sat up, crossing her arms. “Alright, alright. What do you have in mind?”

Y/N squinted at the fish, watching it swim in slow, graceful circles. “What about… Fluff?”

Katie raised an eyebrow. “Fluff? It’s a fish. I don’t think it’s fluffy.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe not Fluff,” Y/N conceded, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “How about… Bubbles?”

Katie snorted. “Bubbles? You’re naming it after a childhood cartoon character?”

Y/N shrugged. “It’s cute. And it’s an easy go-to name for a fish. Plus, it suits this little guy.” She pointed at the fish, which was now hovering near the surface, its fins fluttering like delicate lace.

Katie scoffed dramatically. “That’s a bit too cliché, don’t you think?”

Y/N gave her a side-eye. “You’re one to talk. You suggested Sir Swims-a-lot.”

Katie blushed and smirked, clearly embarrassed but not willing to back down. “It’s a good name. He’s got a lot of energy. Could be an aristocrat of the fish world, ruling over all the other tank creatures.”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh, Sir Swims-a-lot. That’s rich. We might need a crown for him.”

Katie stuck her tongue out at her, but then paused, looking at the fish again. “Okay, okay. Let’s take this seriously for a second.” She shifted on the couch, resting her chin in her hand. “What about something more… regal? Like Neptune?”

Y/N shook her head. “That’s a bit too formal for a fish that’s just chilling in a tank.”

Katie frowned. “You know, you’re no fun sometimes.”

“Hey, I’m just thinking practically. We need a name that’s cute but also a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” Y/N said, smirking.

Katie raised a finger, as though struck by a sudden revelation. “What about… Fishy McFishface?”

Y/N blinked at her. “Oh no, you did not just go there.”

Katie grinned, leaning back with satisfaction. “I did. And I stand by it. It’s a classic.”

Y/N groaned, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you just referenced that. It’s too much of a meme.”

“But it’s perfect!” Katie argued. “It’s funny and it makes people smile. You love making people laugh.”

Y/N paused, considering. “You know, it does have a certain charm…”

“I knew you’d come around,” Katie said smugly, crossing her arms and leaning back on the couch.

Y/N shook her head, trying to hold back a grin. “I mean, it’s ridiculous, but it’s kind of our ridiculous. Fine, Fishy McFishface it is.”

Katie’s eyes lit up with triumph. “Yes! I knew you’d see the genius in it.”

As Y/N got up to grab a marker and label the tank with the new name, she paused and glanced back at Katie, who was now looking at the fish with a fond expression.

“You know,” Y/N said, her tone softer now, “even if it’s just a fish, I’m kind of glad we did this. It’s nice having something… alive in here that we get to look after together.”

Katie smiled, her eyes warm. “Yeah, me too. Maybe it’s not a dog or a cat, but it’s still part of the family.”

Y/N gave her a teasing look. “You’re not gonna start getting too attached, are you? I don’t need you calling it your ‘baby.’”

Katie stuck her tongue out playfully. “It’s my fish, and I’m going to spoil it rotten. It’s just as good as a dog, but without all the barking.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled as she walked over to the tank. “Alright, Fishy McFishface, welcome to the family.”

The fish, as if responding to the name, swam in lazy circles, oblivious to the discussion that had just taken place.

Katie McCabe had always been a little too carefree about things. She loved her spontaneous adventures, her carelessness, and her ability to laugh at almost everything, even when it wasn’t entirely appropriate. But when it came to taking care of Fishy McFishface, she thought she had it all under control. After all, how hard could it be to care for a fish? Just feed it, change the water once in a while, and keep the tank clean. Right?

Wrong.

It had started out innocently enough. The tank had been sparkling clean, Fishy McFishface was happily swimming around, and Y/N was admiring the little fish from across the room. But Katie—busy with training, social media, and all the distractions that came with life—had let a few things slide. She’d forgotten to feed Fishy a couple of times, skipped cleaning the tank for a few days longer than she should have, and, most unfortunately, she had gotten a bit careless with the water temperature.

That’s when things went wrong.

Katie had come home one evening, after a particularly grueling practice session, to find Fishy McFishface floating lifeless at the top of the tank.

“Oh no. No, no, no…” Katie muttered, panic rising in her chest. She reached into the tank, scooping up the little fish with trembling hands. “Please don’t be dead…”

But there was no denying it. The fish was gone.

Katie quickly sprang into action. She drained the tank, cleaned everything out, and made a decision: she would replace Fishy McFishface. It was a small fish, after all. Y/N would never notice the difference, right? Katie was sure she could pull it off. She went out and bought a nearly identical goldfish, one that looked just like their beloved pet, only this one was a little more vibrant in color, as if it had been dipped in a bit too much gold.

When Y/N came home, she barely glanced at the tank, distracted by the bag of groceries in her hands.

“Hey, babe,” Y/N greeted her, setting the bags down. “How’s our fishy today?”

Katie, trying to act casual, nodded. “Oh, you know. Just swimming around. Same old.”

Y/N didn’t think much of it, but as she glanced at the tank, she could have sworn the fish had gotten brighter. "It looks different, doesn’t it? A bit more… golden?"

Katie laughed nervously. “Nah, I think it’s just the lighting. Maybe it’s been eating well.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but shrugged. “Well, Fishy McFishface is looking good. I’ll take it.”

Katie breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this would work. Maybe the new fish would slip under the radar.

The next day, however, the truth came crashing down.

Y/N had been in the kitchen, making some tea, when she casually glanced over at the tank. Something was off. The fish was definitely not the same one as yesterday. It was slightly larger, a little more sleek, and—now that she was really looking—its fin markings were wrong. The markings on the fins of the original Fishy McFishface had been a bit more spread out. This one had a more symmetrical pattern.

Y/N crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, suspicious. She leaned closer to the tank, staring at the fish with increasing doubt. The colors were even brighter than before.

Wait a second…

“Katie!” Y/N called out sharply from the kitchen.

Katie froze in the living room. She had been doing some stretches, trying to keep her body loose, but the tone of Y/N’s voice made her stomach drop. “Uh, yeah?”

Y/N slowly walked over to the tank, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. She pointed at the fish, now darting around happily. “Katie, did… did Fishy McFishface just get a makeover overnight?”

Katie’s heart sank. She had been hoping this wouldn’t happen. How did she figure it out so fast?

“Well… uh…” Katie stammered, walking over nervously. “I, um… It’s just the lighting, right? Maybe you didn’t notice before, but—”

“Katie.” Y/N’s voice was calm, but the sternness in it sent a little chill down Katie’s spine. “This is not the same fish.”

Katie’s face went pale. “What? Of course it is! What are you talking about?”

Y/N’s eyes flickered with amusement, but she kept her face stoic. “You’ve replaced Fishy McFishface, haven’t you?”

Katie’s mouth went dry. “Okay, fine. I might’ve… replaced it. But it’s the same species! It’s practically the same fish, just… newer.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Newer?”

Katie rubbed the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “I—uh, I might’ve accidentally… killed it. And, uh, panicked. So I got a new one. I didn’t think you’d notice.”

Y/N blinked a few times, processing this. She then crossed her arms and let out a dramatic sigh. “Katie McCabe, you killed our fish?!”

Katie looked absolutely horrified as she took a step toward Y/N. “Babe, I swear, I didn’t mean to! I messed up with the water temperature, and then I—” She trailed off, biting her lip. “Please don’t be mad. I’ve already replaced it, and it’s just as cute—”

Y/N interrupted her, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I can’t believe you would do that, Katie. First, you kill Fishy McFishface. Then you think you can just sneak a new fish in and act like nothing happened?” She placed a hand over her chest. “I’m deeply hurt, Katie. You’ve betrayed me.”

Katie’s face crumpled as she looked at Y/N with pleading eyes. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know what else to do! Please don’t be upset. I—” She dropped to her knees in front of Y/N, clasping her hands together. “Please, Y/N, I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I’ll… I’ll clean the tank every week. I’ll feed it every single day. I’ll even get another fish if you want—just don’t be mad at me.”

Y/N looked down at Katie’s dramatic display, unable to keep up the act any longer. She burst into laughter, doubling over as the tension lifted from her body. “Oh my God, you’re ridiculous!”

Katie blinked up at her, still kneeling on the floor. “Wait… what?”

“I’m not actually mad at you!” Y/N gasped between giggles. “It’s just a fish, Katie. But you should’ve seen the look on your face when you thought I was upset!”

Katie’s expression shifted from panic to confusion, then to realization. “You were messing with me the whole time, weren’t you?”

Y/N nodded, still chuckling. “You should’ve seen yourself. You were ready to do anything to make it up to me.”

Katie stood up, rolling her eyes with a relieved sigh. “You’re cruel, Y/N. Absolutely cruel. I’m going to remember this.”

Y/N grinned, taking Katie’s hand. “Don’t worry, babe. I forgive you. And I’ll let you off the hook… this time.”

Katie pulled her in for a kiss. “You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“I know,” Y/N said with a grin. “But, uh, next time you ‘replace’ the fish, maybe just let me know beforehand?”

Katie laughed. “Deal. As long as you promise to pretend to be upset again. It was kind of fun.”

Y/N shook her head. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

And so, Fishy McFishface lived in their hearts definitely still part of the family.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The End.

#offside story #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso soccer #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe

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therealcocoshady · 3 days ago

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Kinktober 2024 - Day 22 - Dirty Talk

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Here is the Kinktober episode for the « Dirty Talk » prompt. Thank you so much to the anon who suggested it to me in the Asks ✨. I hope you enjoy it !

CW : Dirty Talk - Flirting

In the studio's dimmed lights, Marshall paced the floor, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against his thigh. He’d been trying to work with you for months, bending schedules, pulling favors, convincing his team, convincing you. It was almost unheard of for an artist of his stature to try this hard to work with an emerging artist such as you. As it was for such a new talent to be so wary and hesitant to work with such a big name in the industry. When you first got an email telling you that Eminem wanted to collaborate with you, you thought it was a prank and did not even bother replying. But then, you got a call from Paul Rosenberg, assuring you it was real. Anyone would have jumped at the opportunity but you had your reservations : sure, being on a track with Eminem would be huge, there was no denying that. But still, the promise of exposure was not enough to convince you. You didn’t want to be just another pretty voice he’d use on a track. You wanted control, artistic freedom. And as someone who was trying to build a brand based on being audacious and unapologetic, you weren’t sure that he was the right fit. After all, it wasn’t 1999 anymore and, if Eminem was a household name, you really would have wanted to collaborate with Slim Shady.

When you kindly replied that you had your reservations about the collaboration request, you expected things to end there. But they didn’t. Marshall Mathers himself got on the phone with you to try and convince you. And, seconds after you said you would think about it, you received a few files, beats he produced in your Inbox. He offered for you to choose the one you wanted to work on, assuring you that he had made them with you on his mind. You actually loved every one of them and there was only so much artistic courting that you could resist, so you ended up agreeing. And as soon as his team received word that you were on board, they booked your flight and hotel reservation. And judging by the private plane sent your way, as well as the penthouse suite in the fanciest hotel in Detroit, you could tell they were putting efforts into making the whole thing happen.

In truth, Marshall had been obsessed with your music for a while. He had randomly discovered one of your tracks and he had ended up binge-listening to everything you had ever put out. Why you weren’t a superstar yet, he was not sure. What he did know, however, is that he needed to be on a track with you. Soon enough, a big, household name would collaborate with you and he would have lost his chance. Every time he heard your voice, gritty and lush with this edge he couldn’t quite define, he felt himself get pulled deeper into an obsession he couldn’t shake. You were fresh, unlike anything he’d heard—raw, provocative, and willing to cut to the bone. And now, finally, you were coming to his studio to work with him.

The door swung open, and in walked the woman who’d been running laps in his mind for the better part of the year : you. She was as striking as her voice, with a smirk that hinted at trouble, and eyes that seemed to take in everything all at once. One that said you knew exactly what you were worth, and that you were not impressed by his notoriety. One look at you and he could tell you weren’t one of those new artists who got all shy once they were face to face with him, often trying too hard to mold themselves to his expectations. And, of course, he liked it. That was exactly what he was looking for. Being one of the greatest was, in many ways, a blessing, but it was also a curse, especially when one was looking to constantly renew themselves, push the pen and their artistic boundaries.

There was an instant click, a mutual electricity hanging in the air. Marshall didn’t miss the way your gaze lingered on him, a mix of curiosity and challenge. “Didn’t think you’d actually pull it off,” you said, eyebrows raised as you looked around the high-end studio. Your voice, lower than he’d expected, hit him like a sucker punch, all slow confidence and swagger. “Didn’t give myself a choice,” he shot back, holding your gaze. “When I want something, well, in that case, someone, I get it.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into that signature smirk. “I guess that makes two of us. Let’s get to work, yeah?”

You settled in, talking about the track, about the way he wanted to play with tension, throw caution to the wind, using some of your work as inspiration and reference. You were on the same wavelength from the start—both looking to take risks, create something that would linger in people’s minds, make the audience feel something intense.

The track he had in mind was something dark and seductive, a pulsing bass line underlying a beat that was slow but biting. He laid down his first verse, his voice smooth and confident, every word dripping with an intentional intensity. He could feel you watching him from the booth, the way your eyes followed every line he delivered. He didn’t hold back, letting his lyrics flirt with the edge of decency, taking up space in a way that dared you to match it. Of course, you were intent on proving that you were up to the challenge. When it was your turn, you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and let it all pour out, your voice a rich, smoky counterpoint to his. Your verse didn’t just match his energy—it went toe to toe, pushing him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. You turned his words back on him, responding with lines that danced between taunt and temptation. Your lyrics seemed to pull at him, inviting and provocative, every line like a hand wrapped around his collar, drawing him in. As you recorded, Marshall’s mind raced. This wasn’t just a track. It was something else—something that was as personal as it was artistic. The tension wasn’t just in the music. It was in the room, filling the space between you, every glance and every word laced with double meanings.

When you wrapped up, they both took a breath, looking at each other across the soundboard. The track was like nothing he’d done before—raw, sensual, a collision of their styles in a way that felt both inevitable and dangerous. “Damn,” you murmured, still catching her breath. “Didn’t think you had that in you.” He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “I guess you bring it out of me.”

The two of you sat in silence, the unspoken hanging there, both of you fully aware that you had created something unforgettable—not just in the music, but in the connection you had formed, a synergy that was addictive, electrifying, and undeniable. The hypothesis was verified as soon as his team heard it and you saw their eyes open wide with a mix of shock and excitement. They exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves as they processed what they’d just heard. One of his longtime producers. “Man…that was…” He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to find the right words. “It’s insane. I’ve never heard anything like it from you before.” Paul, his manager, practically vibrating with excitement, chimed in. “That track—it’s got this… it’s hot, but it’s intense, like… it’s like you two were…” He hesitated, not daring to finish the sentence. You let out a low laugh and raised an eyebrow when you caught the unspoken word.

Marshall smirked, feeling that same rush he’d felt in the booth, that electricity that seemed to carry through every single line you’d spit back and forth. “It’s a vibe,” he said, his voice casual, but the gleam in his eyes told everyone that he knew exactly what you had both created. “We went all out on this one.” Paul turned to him, a sudden fire in his eyes. “You can’t let this just be an audio track, man. People have to see this. They need to see that tension. It needs a music video—one that’s as raw as the track itself.” His personal assistant, Tracy, nodded, practically bouncing in her seat. “Exactly. I mean, the lyrics alone…there’s a story there. It’s like a back-and-forth, the chemistry, the intensity. You’re going to leave people craving more if they don’t get the full visual experience.”

You glanced over at him, eyes sparkling. “They’re right, you know. The track isn’t just something you hear—it’s something you feel.” For a moment, he let himself imagine it. A dimly lit set, shadows casting just the right angles, both of your voices echoing through a dark, intimate setting. Your verses bouncing off each other, your eyes locked, the tension between you building in every frame. He could see it perfectly—a music video that wasn’t just a performance but an experience, where every look, every gesture, was a continuation of the fire that had been poured into the track. “All right,” he finally said, feeling a grin stretch across his face. “Let’s make it happen.”

His team erupted in cheers, already throwing around ideas for directors, cinematographers, and set designs. But through it all, you and Marshall stayed locked in, that same spark between you burning as bright as ever. You leaned in, your voice low, almost teasing. “Guess you’re stuck with me for a little longer, then.” He gave a slow, satisfied nod, knowing exactly what you’d just set in motion. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Weeks later, the music video finally dropped, it was like striking a match in a gasoline-soaked room—the internet exploded. Within hours, the video was trending worldwide, fans and critics alike flooding social media with reactions that ranged from awe to outright disbelief. It was intense, raw, and more than a little suggestive. The chemistry that had been palpable on the track was cranked up to maximum on screen, leaving viewers questioning just how much was acting and how much was real.

The video opened in a dimly lit, shadowed room, smoky and moody, with neon lighting casting dramatic hues across the scene. You and Marshall faced each other in the middle of the room, your silhouettes close but never quite touching. The way you exchanged verses was more than just a performance—it felt like a conversation laced with danger, anticipation, and something unmistakably intimate. Each line you spit felt like a challenge, each look lingering just a little too long. One of the most talked-about scenes showed you standing nose-to-nose, voices dropping to a murmur as you exchanged lyrics that sounded more like secret fantasies than lines in a song. His hand brushed down you arm, your gaze locked on his with an intensity that made it impossible for viewers to look away. Every second of the video was like a slow burn, inching closer to the edge without ever quite going over it. But the tension between the two of you was undeniable, and that fine line between performance and reality left people buzzing.

Immediately after the video ended, social media exploded with speculation. Fans were dissecting every moment, rewatching certain frames on repeat, turning them into gifs in the process, trying to find evidence that what they’d witnessed wasn’t just acting. A tweet from a prominent rap reactor read: “That video was more than a collab. Did they actually…?” Another comment racked up thousands of likes: “I swear they DID it on camera. You can’t fake chemistry like that.” Even celebrities chimed in. One famous pop artist tweeted, “Is it just me or did they actually record their dirty talk in te studio? 🔥🔥🔥,” while others posted cryptic reactions that only fueled the frenzy. Fans shared memes about “needing a cigarette after that video” or “wanting what they have.” A rumor began circulating that someone from the crew had leaked hints of “off-camera moments” that were even more intense, stoking the intrigue and mystery surrounding the pair.

When asked about it in interviews, Marshall gave his trademark smirk and brushed it off. “We wanted to make it unforgettable. I’d say we did our job,” he said with a gleam in his eye, adding nothing to deny or confirm the rumors. And yourself, just as sly and playful, simply said, “I guess you’ll never know. But you can certainly dream about it.” The ambiguity only fueled the fire. The video racked up millions of views within days, and the speculation became part of its mystique. Fans debated, celebrities whispered, and music critics declared it “one of the sexiest collaborations of the decade,” a “masterclass in tension and allure.”

The two of you certainly had fun watching people’s reaction to the track. Both of you had enjoyed the collaboration, the artistic chemistry being absolutely undeniable, and when Marshall offered to produce some tracks for your upcoming album, you happily accepted. The two of you spent a lot of time in the studio, getting to know each other and joking around whole you got work done. You were kind of amazed that the hype around your collaboration didn’t seem to die down. You were in a cozy corner of the studio, scrolling through your phones and watching the internet collectively lose its mind. Every tweet, every meme, every fiery reaction sent you both into fits of laughter and smirking exchanges. It felt like you were sharing in on some private joke, one that only you knew the punchline to. “Did you see this one?” you laughed, nudging him and holding your phone out so he could see. It was a meme of the two of you side-by-side with captions that read: ’When you make a whole music video just to flirt,’ and ’They can’t act that well… right?’

He chuckled, shaking his head as he read it. “I mean, they’re not totally wrong,” he murmured, his voice low, a teasing glint in his eyes as he looked up at you. You arched an eyebrow, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much. “Oh, really?” You let the words hang in the air, daring him to take the bait. He leaned back, pretending to think about it. “Maybe,” he said slowly, smirking. “Maybe they’re onto something. All those people guessing we weren’t just acting… I mean, what do you think?”. You gave him a playful shove, laughing. “I think you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Nah,” he replied, scooting a little closer. “You’re the one who keeps egging them on.” He raised his eyebrow, giving her that signature cocky grin. “You love it. Admit it.” You rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “I’m not saying I don’t like watching them squirm a little,” you said, smirking as you glanced down at another comment that read: ’The only thing hotter than the track is the way they look at each other.’ “I mean, they do have a point, though. The chemistry is… undeniable.”

“Oh, we’re undeniable now?” he teased, leaning in close enough that you could feel his breath against your cheek. “Undeniable chemistry, huh?” You shrugged, pretending to be unaffected, though you were pretty sure that he could see the flush creeping up your neck. “I mean… I just call it like I see it,” you murmured, your voice a little lower, a little softer.

There was a charged silence as you both looked at each other, the playful edge lingering but shifting slightly, deepening. His fingers brushed yours, just barely, but enough that you both felt the spark. “You know,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking between her gaze and her lips, “we could give them a little more to talk about.” Your grin was wicked as you leaned in, your voice barely a whisper. “Now that would really set the internet on fire.”

#eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine #eminem kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober prompts #kinktober

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ashkabbom · 3 days ago

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Would it have worked? - Mouthwashing

A/n: I think it's important to let you know that I haven't written frequently for a long time, but following something new has made me excited and with a peak of creativity, I apologize if I wrote something wrong or said something wrong 😭 feel free to correct me 🫶🏽

Versão em português no wattpad: ashkabbom (Nome: Teria dado certo?)

I didn't write this in a romantic way, but please give my writing a chance 🙏🏽

Mini warnings: Mention of bullets and death of the main character, I think that's all?

When you arrived here, expectations and nervousness went hand in hand, but regardless of how strange and weird everything around you was, hope was something you insisted on having at all times. Tulpar will be a good or at least interesting experience.

You really made friends, don't think you didn't!

Having someone like Anya to talk to in the middle of the night when neither of you could sleep properly was comforting.

The dialogues you and Daisuke had were definitely something interesting, you got along well together, sometimes even Swansea was there too, claiming that two interns together wouldn't be a good idea.

Now, about the captain and him. The captain was actually quite calm, a very understanding man, sometimes he would join you and Anya at night... But he was something else. He could just be someone who was a little stressed and had a weird mood. There are a lot of people like that, right?

You remember talking to him and the captain a few times, but rarely, only when it was really necessary or just to relax.

A year transporting a load among so many stars, a load that you didn't even know what it was initially, it would be good to have a good relationship with the others on the ship, your companions after all.

You start to think as you stare at the sky projected on the huge screen, remembering the little conversation you had with your friend.

"Where do you think you would be if you hadn't come to work here?" Daisuke asks looking at you.

"Hmmm.. probably working in a supermarket I think. That was my option if this one didn't work out, so I would keep sending resumes to see if I could get a better job I think.." You say as you remember your old options, there weren't many, but there were still possibilities. "But what about you?"

"Honestly I don't know, I try to be positive about it.." Daisuke looked insecure and uncertain about where he could be now. "Would we still talk when we get back home? I don't know if I'm going to stay here after all this, their cake isn't the best." He tries to relax.

Out of all the people on this ship, Daisuke was the easiest to talk to and actually build some kind of relationship with, maybe because you two were the most positive in that situation.

Even with that foam everywhere on that ship, lost in a loud silence between the darkness and the stars, you were all going to make it back to Earth.

Maybe because you two were more naive than the others on that ship, the two sanest on that crew.

"Hey, you're a cool guy, I'm sure you'd be working in a good place!" A confident smile appears on your face, trying to dismiss your friend's worries. "Of course we would still talk to each other when we get back, we are friends after all, together here for months"

He smiles positively and you say not to go crazy before you, you laugh but are soon interrupted by Swansea asking what the hell you two were doing up in the middle of the night

It was kind of stupid. Maybe you two should have been a little more realistic about the situation. More than 4 or 5 months, shit, you didn't even have any sense of time anymore. No one had come looking for you yet. Had anyone noticed that you were missing and never contacted Pony Express again?

Sitting with your friends at that table, as if it were the day of that news, with everyone sitting together and the cake for the captain on the table.

Now, with a bullet hole in your forehead, along with your friends and that man, your head tilted to the side, you stare at the sky projected on the broken screen, wondering if this would have worked.

A/n: English is definitely not my first language, so I had a lot of translator help! Sorry for any nonsense words with other words.

I just wanted to write a little bit and I liked Mouthwashing, how the game approaches the theme of work and worker, each character's situation in relation to themselves and the general situation ^^. Feel free to tell me what you think of my writing and if you want me to write something, I wouldn't mind. 🎀

#Mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #tw jimmy #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #curly #anya #daisuke #swansea #we all hate jimmy #mouthwashing x reader #captain curly #daisuke x reader #anya x reader

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theitgirlnetwork · 1 day ago

Text

What Are You Willing To Do?

Ch. 2: Date 1 Pt. 1

Note: Thank you so much for the love you all have been showing this story so far! Thank you for reading, and for the kinds messages I have received thus far! I love interacting and seeing your thoughts and comments so keep 'em coming. I want to take this time to remind you that these characters will be flawed. Rafe is....Rafe, but we love him anyway. And Milan is...someone who is compatible with Rafe. They won't always be the depiction of a healthy relationship, but this is fiction and fun. This chapter isn't too bad, but those who have read the snippet know how it's gonna get. Once again, I have songs for this ship so if anyone is interested in them let me know, and feel free to share some with me if you catch a vibe. Finally, let me know if you have any questions or comments. Other than that, I hope you enjoy. This one is a lot shorter than chapter 1, but it is a 2 parter, so don't hate me. Love ya! <3333

“Wait.”

Rafe pauses, loosening his grip on Milan’s hair and pulling back slightly, irritated that she’d stopped him just as their lips brushed and she breathed the smoke he’d just poured into her mouth between them. “What? What’s up?”

“I don’t,” She sighs, her cool breath on his face, eyes still shut as if she’s forcing herself to pause this moment between them. “I don’t just hook up with guys, you know? Maybe we could…I dunno.”

Oh. Oh. Rafe understands. He’d…he’d forgotten himself for a moment. This isn’t some touron stumbling onto the couch next to him, throwing herself at him. She wasn’t one of those gold digging bitches that tries to fuck him with faulty condoms in the bottom of her purse. She’s the kind of girl who has her own shit. She doesn’t need him for a come up. Or at least she doesn’t think she does.

He arrogantly thinks to himself that Milan hasn’t met a man like Rafe Cameron. He’s spent most of his life preparing, becoming the type of man that can run his family, keep them safe and comfortable. The type of son fathers are proud to have and the type of man women want to give a baby. That’s the man who he’s made himself be.

Rafe had been so focused, only allotting himself time for a little bit of fun once in a while, he’d forgotten that one day he might stumble across a girl that had the potential to be a woman. His woman.

He nods slowly, a small smile forming on his face as he pulls back more, releasing her head completely and smoothing his hand back onto her knee. “Nah, I get it. We should get to know each other a little better. How ‘bout you spend the day with me tomorrow?”

Milan perches herself up at that, back straightening even more as her face lights up. “Really? You wanna spend the day with me?”

Rafe rests his head back on the top of the couch, sweeping his thumb on her bottom lip before biting his own and nodding. “Yeah, I wanna show you a good time. Get you a little more comfortable with me so I can kiss those pretty lips of yours.”

Both sets.

“Okay, wait, I’m excited. You’re gonna be my first friend here.”

“Friend?” Rafe scoffs. “‘M’not gonna be your friend, Princess.”

“Well,” Milan shrugs, “Like, I don’t know what I could call you, you’re not my man-”

“Yet. Not your man yet.” He and the woman next to him share twin smiles and Rafe only becomes more invigorated by Milan’s eyeroll and shy grin. “Roll your eyes if you want to, I’m a determined guy.”

“Determined?”

“Yeah, like I know what I like, I work for what I want, so-”

“So what?” Milan giggles, “You…you want me? I should get ready or something?”

“Yeah.” Rafe says flippantly, as if he wasn’t essentially making a threat of courtship to a girl he’d just met like 12 hours before. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d fully wanted from her yet. But the need to have her was nagging at him. Maybe it was lust. She was hot, forbidden fruit for him. He could hear the curses Ward would spit at him now if he fucked around and ruined things with this girl, made an enemy of her dad. Maybe it was how sweet she seems. He’s always liked shiny, new things. When he was a kid, he had to have stuff before his friends did. Toys. Shoes. Stocks. Maybe he’s graduated to feeling that way about women.

Something about how he doesn’t want to look away. Something about the way she was smiling at him, how he’s talked to her the most, how in a room full of guys drooling over her, those big pretty eyes were locked on him. Rafe felt like he had to look into this weird feeling she’s been stirring in his chest since he’d seen her.

It’s what’s best for Milan anyway. None of the rest of these limp dick motherfuckers should have her. They’re not real men. Not like Rafe.

Milan hums as she removes the golden under eye patches from under her eyes, massaging in the serum they leave atop of her skin. Grimacing at a gust of damp wind from outside she pads against the marble floor of her bathroom and pushes the double doors leading to the patio attached closed. “Stupid, island humidity.” She pouts as she combs through her bob again, praying for no puffiness today.

The sky fights to brighten in the early morning. It’s 5:00 a.m. and Rafe Cameron was going to be picking her up in 30 minutes.

After the party last night Sarah had run over to her on the front lawn, hugging her tightly before declaring she was going home with John B. and offering for Milan to come with them. When she declines with a smile, the blonde fixes her brother with a glare, to which he’d returned with a middle finger, and stumbled off in her man’s arms.

Rafe drove Milan back to her house and parked them out front, eyes carefully rotating between staring at Milan sitting pretty in his passenger seat, and watching for a sign of her father at the door. He let her toy with his fingers as she fluttered her lashes at him and he described what he does throughout the day, Or, rather, what they’d be doing today.

When he’d mentioned picking her up after the gym Milan had jumped at the opportunity to go with him. She loved going to the gym every morning before she’d moved and she was happy to keep it going. And it wouldn’t hurt to see Rafe work out.

It was all she could think about. It’s not just his height. Even though he’s so…so tall. At least 6’2. Rafe is big. Muscle. Strength. Yesterday he’d basically hoisted her full weight into his truck with one arm. The preppy boy polo that he’d thrown on for their families hadn’t hidden anything and his tight crew neck that he wore to the party basically outlined everything for her.

She quite literally wanted him to throw her around like a ragdoll. Or let her climb him like a tree. Whatever, Rafe is hot.

He has an intense vibe, seemingly takes himself very seriously. But, Milan figures she could relax him. Loosen him up a little bit.

They were gonna have so much fun. Smiling at her own reflection in the mirror, Milan spritzes vanilla Sol de Janeiro and all but fucking skips down the steps and to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Miss Milan, you’re awake early. I just started prepping for breakfast, but I could make you a coffee while you wait.” The private chef that her parents had hired a couple years ago had made the move with them. They’d paid for her to come with them to Outer Banks and offered to increase her salary because…well…it wasn’t their nice home in Quebec that she was used to.

“No, thank you, Miss Ally.” Milan reaches over, stealing a newly washed strawberry and biting into it. “And my parents aren’t awake, right?”

“Of course not. You know your mother won’t roll out of bed until she smells the food cooking and your dad won’t come until I’ve had to warm it up twice. Why? Are you alright, honey?”

The younger woman nods, tossing the green stem into the trash and reaching for two travel cups. “Can you keep a secret? I have, like, a date today.”

“Like a date?”

“Yeah, with a guy. He’s really cute, and sweet. So,” Milan begins sifting matcha, smiling down at the cup and resting her cheek on her shoulder. “‘M’gonna hang out with him today.”

“Less than 48 hours and there’s a boy, huh? Atta girl.” Miss Ally passes Milan the vanilla protein powder. “You’ve been worried about the move, thinking it was a bad idea, and here you are making friends.”

“Mhm, hot ones. With blue eyes and dimples.”

“And where,” Ally nudges Milan out of the way as she pours the hot water into the travel mug, “am I supposed to tell your parents you are when you’re out with Mr. Blue Eyes and Dimples?”

“Touring the island.” She chirps.

“With who?”

“Just like…generally. They should be cool with it honestly, I just know they’re gonna make it weird, but like, he’s the son of Dad’s first friend here so he shouldn’t be mad. How come he gets a boyfriend and I don’t?”

“Oh, just say that to your parents, I’m sure they’ll go for it then.” Ally snorts, whisking the eggs as Milan seals the travel mugs, laughing to herself as the girl slides both of the pink cups to the end of the counter next to her gym bag.

When Rafe pulls up outside of the Cabot house, he texts Milan before hopping out of his truck and jogging up the cobblestone. He agreed not to ring the doorbell because her parents were awake but he’d be damned if he didn’t pick her up at the door.

As he stands on at the doorstep he adjusts the hat he has rested on his head and rocks on his feet impatiently. He isn’t waiting long. The door swings open and he’s immediately hit with the sweet smell of vanilla and soon after is met with the walking wet dream carrying the scent.

“Good morning!” Milan grins, tossing her arms around his neck, bouncing up into his arms. Rafe isn’t fucking stupid, he’s quick to catch her around the waist and squeeze, relishing in the feeling of her pressed against him.

“Morning, princess.” he murmurs into her hair, squeezing her again for good measure before placing her back on her feet. “You, uh, you always go to the gym in shit like that?”

“Shit like what? Stop.” she laughs as he snaps the elastic of her leggings.

“You just look good. That’s all I’m sayin’.” He chews the gum in his mouth and nudges her chin with his knuckle, mumbling, “Watch your mouth.”

“Yeah? Thank you.” she grins, looking away from him briefly. “I made…I made you something, like a gym drink or whatever.

“That’s cute sweetheart, what do you like me or somethin’?” Rafe snorts, choosing to ignore the fact that the travel mug she was pushing into his hands was bubble gum pink. He holds his hand out to her, not even looking back as he starts guiding her over to his truck. When he hears a little shuffle from her he looks back and glances down at her feet. “What the fuck, your shoes aren’t tied.”

“Okay, one of them untied when I was making you this delicious protein shake and I didn’t wanna make you wait-”

“Christ.” Rafe grunts, unlocking his car and wrenching the door open, planting his hands on Milan’s waist and hoisting her into the seat easily. He tugs her foot onto his lap and begins tying the lace of her sneaker tightly. “Gonna break your fuckin’ neck.”

“I wasn’t gonna fall, Rafe-”

“You literally were letting me drag you down those steps.” When he’s done Rafe lifts her leg into the car, closing the door and walking around the driver’s side and climbing in. After he clicks his seatbelt on, he pauses and frowns when he sees Milan’s pout staring forward at the road. He puffs out a breath. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t said ‘thank you’. For your drink.”

“Wh-are you serious?”

“Yes. You seriously haven’t said ‘thank you.’”

“Uh…” Rafe’s brows furrow as he observes the girl. Arms crossed, dramatic frown on her pretty, glossed lips, knees pointed away from him. “Th-thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” she immediately warms up, clicking her own seatbelt on and taking a sip of her drink, moving back to the middle of her seat. As Rafe tries to sort through what quick, guerilla warfare he’d just experienced, he starts driving the car.

So that’s her game. She’s cute and pretty and pouts like a fuckin’ brat when she doesn’t feel like she’s getting what she wants. Or someone is saying something she doesn’t wanna hear. All she’s showing me is that I’m exactly what she needs.

“M’just sayin’ like your shirt’s a little slutty. Like it’s tight, I can see your nipples and everything.”

“Don’t say shit like that, what the fuck?”

“It’s like tight and stuff, like it’s a little bit of a hoochie shirt.”

“Hoo-hoochie shirt. Fuckin’ brat.” Rafe shakes his head. In the time it’s taken to drive to the gym and for Rafe to put his card down to get Milan a temporary membership, she’d clearly been trying to test him. She was pushing boundaries to see what he would and wouldn’t accept. And he would try to be patient. But the jokes weren’t gonna be as funny when he was using her mouth for what he really wanted to use it for. Not now. He had to wait. To humor her. She was cute. He’d give her that. Maybe he needed to be cute back. “Don’t work out in the damn shirt anyway,”

Milan’s eyes widen as she stares up at Rafe from where she’s stretching on the floor. She bites her lip and shifts her gaze to herself in the mirror as he easily tugs the tight shirt off of his chiseled muscles, tossing it into his gym bag next to her.

Jesus. She bites her lip, berating herself inwardly as she glances at the tanned skin he was now baring for the world to see, six pack on display as he starts doing some standing stretches. “Here, sweetheart.” Rafe crouches next to her, pushing one of his airpods into her ear. “You, uh, didn’t have headphones, so you can just listen to my shit.”

“Can we make a spotify jam?”

“What?”

“So, I can add songs too, can we make a jam? And we’d be listening to the same thing, at the same time, you know?”

“I mean, yeah, sure why the fuck not? You’re not gonna add any corny shit are you? M’trustin’ you with my workout. Like that’s pretty fuckin’ special.”

“Oh my God, Rafe, I’m…I’m sure we have basically the same taste in music.”

Rafe and Milan are at war for essentially their whole warm up. They agree to separate for cardio and then meet back up for them both to try some of each other’s usual workouts. With the shared music blasting in their ears, they both still felt like they were hanging out for the 40 minutes that they are apart. Rafe spent half of his run on the treadmill listening to Beyoncé and Sabrina Carpenter’s discographies while Milan genuinely flinched on the stairmaster with Travis Scott and 50 Cent pounding against her ear drums. Both of them looking at each other with sick satisfaction when it was their turn to pick a song, making a game out of picking something they thought would irritate the other more.

Rafe had finally had enough and started skipping Milan’s picks when the High School Musical Soundtrack started playing, eventually coming to pluck her off of her machine to start doing weights as Troy began singing about wanting his own dream.

By now they’d both finished their protein shakes and felt like they had a lot of energy. Well, at least they both did. Until Rafe started making Milan do his workouts.

She was both turned on and enraged as he demonstrates different forms of weightlifting, chuckling at her deeply as she struggles to do another set. “Mmkay, okay, that’s enough, I’m done with that.”

“Nah, you didn’t even finish that one, c’mon let’s go.”

“Rafe, no” she whines getting off of the bench. Milan immediately gasps as Rafe fists the fabric at the front of her leggings, lifting her off of her feet and physically placing her back onto the equipment.

Slapping her thigh, he offers her a no-nonsense look that lets her know that she isn’t getting up until she completes this workout to his satisfaction. “Baby, let’s go, stop fuckin’ around.”

Shit. Yes sir. “I want…breakfast food after this. Like, waffles, and butter and stuff.”

“'Let me come to the gym with you, Rafe. I wanna where my cute little outfit and not workout.'”

“Asshole.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Wait…until we start doing my pilates workout. All those muscles will mean…nothing.”

“Yeah, you like ‘em?” He smirks, grabbing the weight to ease it down against her before helping her off. “That your excuse? Can’t focus?”

“Stop…being mean, worst date ever.” She whines, leaning her head against his chest.

Rafe pats Milan’s ass twice before nudging her into the direction of the next machine. "Best fuckin' date of your life, brat."

“Are you gonna keep staring at my butt or are you gonna try again?” Milan calls over to Rafe.

“My body is not built for that girly shit. You keep goin’ though.” He says. Milan rolls her eyes and continues on the machine, pausing when she sees the reflection of a camera flash in the mirror. “Damn, flash was on.”

“Rafe!”

“You look good, baby. I thought you’d like me to be all sentimental and shit, capture our first date.”

“Oh my God. You’re like, not even working out at this point.”

He shrugs, tilting his head to get a better view of her. “You’re the one who got an attitude when that girl asked me to spot her and made us change floors.

“She saw you with me.” Milan hisses through her teeth, pausing her movements. “She was trying to be funny.”

“Think so?” Rafe scoffs, squirting water into his mouth from the bottle he’d kept in his bag.

“Yeah, but if you liked the attention you could go back down.”

Rafe wets his bottom lip at that. Being at the gym with Milan has been fun. Turns out, he likes talking to her, which is more than what he could say for the majority of the population. She’s sexy, and doesn’t mind him being handsy. She seemed to all but expect him to pat her ass in encouragement after she finishes anything. She likes for him to teach her, guide her movements, place her on and off of machines. She likes to whine and have him sort her out. And she’s possessive. Jealous. Normally the concept of having someone police him sounds emasculating and unacceptable to Rafe. But watching her pretty little face turn into a scowl as she watched girls check him out or come up to him like they always did in the gym? It turned him on bad.

She matched his crazy. It didn’t matter that it was their first date, the same way Rafe’s lip curled in disgust as he caught the fuckheads wandering the gym eyeing her before he stepped in their line of vision, Milan would physically place herself in front of his view, guiding his eyes to her and away from any girl delusional enough to think they were as bad as her.

But her mouth when she’s frustrated. That was something Rafe was gonna have to work on. Lucky for the both of them, a stern warning seemed to be enough for now. Rafe stalks over to where she’s sitting, stepping on the machine behind her and wrapping his hand loosely around her neck, pushing the back of her head to rest on the front of his stomach. Milan looks up at him through her lashes, as he pushes his thumb into her cheek, encouraging her to open her mouth and squirting a little water in from his water bottle. He fixes her with a disapproving look. “Chill out. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“I followed you up here, right?”

“Yeah.” she says softly, leaning into his hand.

“Alright then. Let’s not worry about the wrong things.”

After 3 hours at the gym the two of them hit the showers, separately despite both of their hesitation to separate again. They walk out of the building in different clothes and Rafe’s arm strewn over Milan’s shoulder, holding her hand where it came up to meet his own. He has to hide his smirk when he catches her making eye contact with the girl who’d asked Rafe to spot her as they walked out, a bright smile on her face.

He was starting to like this pretty little thing more and more. Rafe lifts her back into the car, this time buckling her seatbelt for her before getting into the driver’s side. He finds that Milan can talk…a lot. She has jumped from topic to topic in the 15 minute drive more than Rafe thinks he can in 2 hours. He’s surprised to find he doesn’t find her annoying. Rafe finds his cheeks dimpling as he listens to her yap about her favorite tv shows, a movie she wants him to watch, her plans for her next nails set and thinking about getting highlights in her hair.

All the while she rubs his bicep, leaning into him as he holds her thigh in his large hand. He offers her small mumbles of acknowledgement to let her know he’s still listening. ‘Hm.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Sound’s good, baby.’

“You’re not listening to me.” she sighs, looking out the window as they pull into the restaurant. “M’talkin’ too much.”

“Nah, I like that shit. I’d let you know if I’d had enough.” Rafe places his hand on the back of her headrest as he backs into the spot. “But, uh, my head’s always movin’ right? I’m thinkin’ while I listen.”

Milan watches as he shifts gears and places his truck in the middle of two spots, declaring under his breath he doesn’t want anyone ‘fuckin’ up his truck’ to justify taking up two spots. “So…okay. What’re you, like, thinking about? While you’re listening to me.”

“Uh, honestly?” He asks. Intense blue eyes rest on soft brown ones. Milan just nods, turning more toward him. “How fuckin’ hot you are. Pretty fuckin’ distracting.”

“Oh.” She says.

“Yeah. Oh. Does that throw you off or something, like, oh is a weird response-”

“No, I was just saying oh, like-”

“Okay, because, I’m being pretty fuckin’ clear and you’re-”

Milan unclips her seatbelt quickly. Before Rafe can blink her soft lips are pressed against his and before he can kiss her back she’s back in her seat, pulling down the mirror and fumbling in her purse for her lipgloss. “I wasn’t supposed to kiss you until our first date was over. I can’t believe I did that. Oh my God.” Rafe chuckles lowly as she fumbles in her purse, dropping it and spilling its contents all over her lap and the floor of the car. “Oh my God.”

“Did you, uh,” He pauses, trying not to openly bark out a laugh at her, scratching his head. “Did you only bring lip gloss and perfume? Like, no wallet. At all.”

“Okay…” Milan starts slowly, “I understand that looks bad, and like, people believe in that 50-50 stuff now, and so I shouldn’t-”

“Baby, the fuck do I look like? I wouldn’t be taking you out if I couldn’t afford to, I’m not a fuckin’ pogue.”

“A what?”

“Don’t worry about it. And don’t worry about that fuckin’ peck, that wasn’t a real kiss.” It shocks her how easy it is for Rafe to scoot his chair back and pull her into his lap. “This is the shit you should worry about.”

Rafe Cameron pulls Milan Cabot into the nastiest kiss that either of them had ever fantasized about, let alone experienced. He holds her jaw, working his own open as he pushes his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her whimpers and humming against her. He separates their mouths briefly to kiss down her neck only to drag back up to her lips, chuckling darkly when she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth, gripping her thigh with his free hand as he drools into her open mouth.

When he pulls away for the final time he rests his head back on the headrest, pushing his thumb into her mouth and releasing a breath as he watches her obediently suck on it.

By the time they step out of the car to head into the nice breakfast restaurant he’d brought her to, Rafe had willed his…friend to go down, and they had undone the damage he’d done to Milan’s makeup and hair. As he guided her in by the waist, tugging down the hem of her pretty little dress to cover the ass he’d just been gripping he felt a feeling of superiority. The woman next to him was relying on him and him alone to lead her around. All the loser fuckers they passed on the way to their table could stare all they wanted. They could take a mental picture and store it away in their sick little spank banks for later until they came to the realization they’d never get a girl like Milan and finally blew their fucking brains out. But she was here with Rafe. And that’s how he expected it to be from here on out.

He’d decided. She was gonna be his.

#oc #love #obx #outerbanks #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader #romance #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe x oc #rafe cameron x oc #milan cabot #what are you willing to do?

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hoonieyun · 1 day ago

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collecting tears - jongseong

jar of tears that were shed for jongseong

park jongseong x reader "y/n"

genre: angst, breakup, the one that got away

warnings: profanity, mental illness/depression, overall 18+

summary: no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get jongseong out of your head. two years after your tear filled and emotional breakup, he's still on your mind but it seems he hasn't thought about you since that night.

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier olivia rodrigo - happier word count: 2007

text in italics are flashbacks

You saw him in everything.

You saw him in the way your glasses reflected the light as it sat on your vanity.

You saw him in the way your guitar collected dust in the corner of your bedroom.

And you saw him in your reflection as you stared at your tear stained face and dark circles under your eyes.

The memory of Jongseong that you held onto hurt more than the idea of being without him, because being without him only led to the memories of when you were with him, something that no longer exists in your life.

Jongseong.

The events of your tear filled and emotional breakup replays in your mind often, Jongseong’s tired face and the broken picture frame scattered into thousands of pieces in your bedroom. You could hear the argument in your head like it was playing through a speaker that followed you wherever you went. The last words you ever spoke to him ringing in your ears as a constant reminder that your inability to process your emotions and failure to stabilize your mind was the reason you were so lonely, even two whole years after your breakup.

It’s a gloomy afternoon in the middle of September. The weather foreshadows the inevitable dreary, dull, and dark outcome of what your life would be for years to come. You had been in bed all day, crippled by your anxiety and depression, making it difficult for you to make any rational decisions or clear judgement of what you should be doing.

Your phone fills with unanswered calls and texts that would remain unanswered until you convinced yourself enough that you weren’t a burden to others. Something that you wouldn’t be able to shake off for almost half a year from today. A feeling that still lingers and creeps up onto you every now and then.

“Honey?” a voice asks from beyond the darkness of your bedroom. You quickly wiped away your tears and did your best to make it seem like you weren’t crying the whole day. Pulling yourself up and dragging the blanket further up your body to cover yourself as if your boyfriend, Jongseong, was anyone you should be hiding away from. His tenderness and soft demeanor was the first thing that attracted you towards him, his good looks was just a plus.

“Honey, are you still sleeping?” Jongseong asks as he slowly pushes the door of your bedroom open, a slight creak sounding from the hinges as light emerges from the other side of the door, Jongseong’s silhouette outlined by the light. “Hi… No, i’ve just been in bed. Doing some thinking…” you say, trying to avoid the fact that you were just crying and hoping that he doesn’t notice as he makes his way closer.

Your bed dips as Jongseong takes a seat next to your figure, still hiding under the blanket. It goes without being said but Jongseong knew you all too well.

He knew when you were really happy over fake happy because true joy spreads across your face when your eyes widen and you blink a thousan times, like you were trying your best to contain your joy but ultimately failing.

He knew when you were upset because you would sniffle your nose as a way to avoid awkward silence or having to voice out your feelings.

And he knew when you were sad because you’d rather surround yourself in the comfort of the darkness instead of reaching out to the hand that could pull you away from the dark. Much like how you were right now.

Jongseong would’ve never abandoned you. He vowed that he would always be by your side no matter what, had you let him. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” he asks, already knowing the answer but he’s made it a habit to encourage you to vocalize your feelings so that it would be easier for you to process them. You only hummed in response but you knew that you should’ve told him how you felt in that moment because it only manifested into something worse.

He sighs at your response, he would be lying if he said that sometimes he wished it was easier, but what was love if it didn’t have some ups and downs. Jongseong just hoped that it was up more than it was down. You scoff at him. Your anxiety was already talking you closer to a ledge and you didn’t need this from him right now. You were convinced that he only came here to make you more upset and the voices validated that outrageous claim over the evidence that Jongseong only had love for you.

“You don’t need to be here. You can leave.” your harsh words piercing into Jongseong’s heart, a feeling of guilt over hurt as he had hoped his presence alone would be enough to make you feel better but it only made you feel worse and he didn’t know why.

“Why would I leave? I want to be here, let me take care of you.” Jongseong says, inching closer to you but you quickly recoil away from, widening the distance like your mattress was meters long. “What’s wrong? Y/N, talk to me…” Jongseong urges but his pleas of wanting to be let in only read as judgement. Like he was judging you for the way you were instead of trying to understand you. Your mind forces a lie for you to believe over the truth, that Jongseong loved you and he wished you knew how much he did.

He loved you more than anxiety loved to cling onto the smallest piece of doubt in your mind.

He loved you more than you loved the darkness.

And he loved you more than words could say but no amount of words could ever tell you that.

“Just leave, I don’t need you here to think I’m someone to take care of and be seen as a burden!” you say, voice now a bit louder as frustration begins to build inside of you. “Honey, you’re not a burden and I’d never treat you like that.” Jongseong says as he settles his hand over your thigh, rubbing it softly over the blanket.

“Why do you do that? Huh?!” you ask, scattering away from his touch and dragging yourself out of bed to stand in front of him.

“You think you can just come in here and act like I’m some poor and unfortunate thing that needs to be fixed or that needs to be looked after. I know you see me as a burden Jongseong, you just don’t want to say it because you’d rather convince yourself that you love me instead of facing the truth.

What did you even come here for? To make sure that I wasn’t doing well? So you could come and swoop in to save the day? You see me as nothing more than just a sick puppy to take care of. You’ve only stayed as long as you have because you pity me more than you love me.” the words just continue to spill out of you. the voices inside of your head had fully convinced you that everything you were saying was the truth and you were only just helping Jongseong face it.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He loved you more than anything and he couldn’t process the fact that you only saw him as someone that pitied you over someone that truly loves you. Because he did. He loved you… or was he starting to believe that what you were saying was in fact the truth.

“How could you say that?” Jongseong says, voice low and discouraged. Great, now you had upset him and intead of focusing on yourself you now had to worry about your boyfriend’s feelings.

“I- You know what. We’re done. Get out.” your voice was dull but it stabbed Jongseong’s heart like it was nothing. “What?” he says in disbelief and you don’t even give him time to process as you're grabbing his wrists and doing your best to drag him out of your apartment. His body was heavy as he tried to stop you but there was something, aside from you, pulling Jongseong out of your apartment and away from you.

Was it wrong to say that maybe there was a small chance he had been waiting for you to push him away? That he had been secretly hoping you would finally get tired of him so that he no longer had to deal with you? Was that so wrong for him to want to be happy in the chance that it meant not being happy with you?

As he pondered these questions, the slam of your front door knocked him out of his thoughts, eyes glued onto the brown paint of the front door. Jongseong contimplated to knock on the door, beg for him to be let in, but he chooses not. Dropping his hand to his side with a sigh as he turns on his heel and walks away from your apartment.

And ultimately walking away from you, forever.

You, on the other hand, waited on the other side of the door, tears welling in your eyes the longer you waited for Jongseong to try and make his way back in. Hoping that you would hear his voice that you loved so much, ask for you to open the door so he could take care of you.

Because maybe, even if you thought you didn’t need it, you did need to be taken care of. And Jongseong was the person who had done that for as long as you could remember.

But the longer you waited the more sadness and regret filtered out the insecurity and doubt. Leaving you to stand in your home, alone, and never to see Jongseong again.

You drag yourself back into your bedroom, flickering the light on and the first thing your eyes fall to is the framed photo of you and Jongseong. The photo was of the day he asked you to be his girlfriend. A photo of you sitting in the middle of a field for a picnic that he had planned. Flowers and your favorite food and snacks sitting next to the both of you on the picnic blanket.

The anger you felt from the photo surged throughout your body and without even thinking you swipe the photo off your vanity, tears flowing from your eyes as it crashes to the floor into thousands of pieces.

You would have hoped that two years after your breakup that you would’ve gotten better and gotten over him, but you fell back into the cycle of shrouding in darkness when a photo of Jongseong appears on your SNS.

He’s smiling, hair done in the way you liked, in a suit that made him look like a prince, and an arm around the waist of a girl you didn’t know. Your eyes trailed over from his arms, to her waist, to her arm, and then to the ring on her finger.

It felt like your heart shattered in that moment. Like you were offended and hurt that Jongseong would ever choose another girl over you as if you gave him a choice like you hadn’t made that choice for him.

More tears well in your eyes as you glance over to Jongseong again. His smile was so beautiful and that was when you realized you had never seen him smile like that when he was with you. He seemed so happy and it hurt even more knowing that he was happy without you.

But there was no one to blame but you.

You forced him away and what a waste of a life for Jongseong to never choose happiness.

You only ever wished that he would be happy.

Just as long as he’s not happier without you.

Maybe in another life. When you weren’t so convinced that everyone hated you and that you were deserving of Jongseong’s love.

Maybe in another life.

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

the credit for the lyrics used in this piece of writing go to their rightful owners

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